Metal, Water, Light

Musings of a carwash junkie

It is Saturday. Or any day really.

(These things are better when you have no plans.)

But whatever. You have chores.

The grocery list.

The post office.

Filling the gas tank.

Maybe you are tired.

Maybe you are bored as hell.

And then, you grab a drink.

Possibly Sparkly. Possibly Clinking ice.

You turn right, up winding pavement and pay $24.

Suddenly your car is in neutral and you no longer need to steer. (Think “let jesus take the wheel” except it’s absolutely not that.

Because I don’t really think he knows how to drive and I don’t know him like that.

It is better anyway. Yes. Better than a deity driving your car for you on any given day.

What I’m getting at here is the car wash. The most magical modern invention ever conceived.

You may not believe me.

You may drive by them with no second thoughts. Strange blocky buildings glimmering inside with mysterious colors and splashing water.

My question is- how could you not be tempted by that?

Here’s the thing.

Inside a carwash time stops.

Pastel soap on the glass.

Neon lights.

Gigantic mops coming down from the ceiling.

Sign me up.

Suddenly the world is gone, and all that exists is water on glass, glowing soap, the taste of ice on your tounge.

Always over too soon, always the most sacred of prayers, the carwash is an underrated human solution to the madness of existence.

The opportunity is always there.

To pause all of time and space

A mystical alchemy of metal, water and light

your hand off the wheel and your head in the stars.