On Cars and Curses
Sit back, I have a tale to share of comedy and tragedy for this fine sunny Thursday.
My mom, having returned home after driving nearly a thousand miles over the past ten days, decides very early today that her car needs a wash and a vacuum.
Since her back is properly borked from said drive, she enlists my assistance. I agree since why not, net positive for the car and world in general to be de-bug-guts-and-rural-pesticides.
We arrive to no line and enter the wash, doing our due diligence to make sure all the windows are well sealed, etc.
All is going well, I hit the line-up perfectly first try, car in neutral, we are discussing the possibility of fancy coffee drinks after the vacuum.
We are both made alarmingly aware, about halfway through the wash, that the seal has completely failed on the sunroof. By which I mean, streams of water start pouring onto our heads, laps, and legs simultaneously. We begin screaming. The car wash does not care.
As we flail, batting and attempting to catch buckets of water pouring onto us, we exit into the drying space, where a young man stands with a clip board and walkie-talkie, doing the safety checks at the end of the run. I make panicked, sodden eye contact with this boy, who watches in abject horror as the water continues pouring onto us. He does not raise his walkie-talkie, for what could he possibly do? Poseidon has already judged us and found us wanting.
My mom and I exit the wash run, silently agreeing to bypass the vacuums and even the fancy coffee in favor of heading home and immediately showering. The seats and our undies are fully sopping. The water on the floorboards is disturbingly beige yellow. We both throw our clothes into the washer and make cups of soothing tea.
I am sitting in the bathtub and contemplating my life choices. My mom is calling Subaru to see if we can get the car fixed before it rains again. What is fate trying to teach me today? Volunteer for nothing? I knew that one already, stop doubling down!!
