Car Wash In Hades

Winters are severe in Minnesota, but cars must still be washed. So, the self-serve car washes in Minnesota have adapted to the cold weather: the bays are not open to the weather, they are closed. The bays have overhead doors.

When I lived in Minnesota, I usually washed my car at night.

Push button for door to roll up, drive into self-service bay, and have the door roll down. My car is snug inside, protected from the cold winter outside. Insert coins and start squirting my car with the hose.

That’s when my eyes and ears notice things.

The car wash has eerie sodium-vapor lights. These lights make everything a shade of gray. There is plenty of water vapor in the air, blurring everything in the building. In the other bays, people are washing their cars, talking to each other. I cannot figure out what they are saying because the echoing din of high-pressure water against metal muffles all human sound.

I figure this is what Hades must be like: eerie, gray, blurry, muffled.

I rinse the car. The door in front of me rolls up, and I pull out into the winter night. In two minutes, I have gone from Hades to what Hades would be like if it froze over.

I stop the car, and jump out to frantically wipe down any drops of water remaining on the exterior of the car. I do not want the drops to freeze to my car.

One-by-one, I slam each car door, and then the hatchback. This keeps the doors from freezing shut. Now I am ready to head out into the winter night.

I drive with a sense of satisfaction. I faced the elements, I triumphed, and now I get to drive a clean car when it is below freezing in Minnesota.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com