Two Car Washes, One Day Part 2

So to recap you can click this link or......



I had just spent over an hour of my life trapped in a windowless prison, having to pee, and not able to escape.

No, I was not in Ikea.  

I had been trapped in a broken car wash.  My car was covered in pink, purple, and blue foam.   My bladder was full.  The car wash wouldn't work.   I was sent on my way with a refund and a "Sorry for your bad luck."

As I received my refund from the cashier, I asked her, "So where am I supposed to go now that the soap is drying on my car?"

"I would try the touchless car wash across from Albertson's,"  she replied, with a shrug as if her place of employment was not responsible for what looked to be a Care Bear's murder all over my car.

I hopped in the car and headed over.

Now, a smarter woman would have stopped and peed.   My only thought was that I had to get this soap off my car, BEFORE it ruined the paint and Big Daddy yelled.

I drove the couple of blocks to the second car wash.

I should have just peed.

This car wash is situated beside a Fina station and next to an abandoned car lot.    I've seen a few cars go in and out before that day, but I'd never stopped there before.

As I perused my options, I decided I got eight bucks back at the gas station, I'd go ahead and spend the same amount for the car wash here.    I'd still get an undercarriage wash, presoak, wash, wax, and dry.  I'd be finished.  The car would be clean.  Life would be good.

Or not.

I slipped my money into the machine and the proceeded to creep into the machine, thankful that Large Angry Man didn't work here.

Presoak was good.  My undercarriage had to be sparkling at this point.    I inched up to the stopping point.    Bright pink foam cascaded down in a waterfall of happiness.

And then....

Nothing but this.

There is NO WAY in heck this is happening again, I thought.  What are the odds?

Maybe there was a water pressure issue.  Maybe the car wash gods hated me.   Maybe I was meant to pee my pants like a first grader who waited too long.  

Maybe I would.

Unfortunately for me, this particular car wash didn't have an attendant like Large Angry Man.   I actually began to miss his smiling mug and cheerful banter.

I waited for five minutes for the water to come back on.  My little stop light stayed red, warning me that I couldn't move forward.

Ten minutes.

Nothing.

Fifteen?

Nope.

I couldn't go forward because of the thingies that lock your wheels in place, so I backed out of the car wash.

There, by the keypad, was a number to call "in case of mechanical breakdown."

If this didn't count, I didn't know what would

I dialed the number, as I looked out at my soapy car, shaking my head.

"Dee, dee, dee.  We're sorry the number you have dialed is not a working number."

Of course, it isn't.

I went to the Fina next door to find out if they were responsible for the car wash.

Of course, they weren't.

Did they know who was?

Of course, they didn't.

I was out my eight bucks and had double the soap on my car that I had an hour ago.

Un. Stinking. Believeable.    

Now, the truly sad thing is this.   If you look at the picture I took, just to the right of that building is a self-wash car wash.

Less than a block away.  It's where I should have gone in the first place, if I wasn't such a lazy bum; now it was where I was headed since I had no choice.  Oh, the irony.

I got change for a five and headed over.

It took me seven bucks to rinse all the soap off in the cold, cold wind.  In my heels.   Doing the tee-tee dance.

Fifteen bucks for car washes.   Almost two hours of my life and there was STILL bird poop on the car.

I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode.   I kept waiting for Rod Serling's voice to do a voiceover, "She wanted a car wash, and she got one in..... in the Twilight Zone."