We took the car through the car wash today.
We’ve learned this winter that cars get dirtier here in the central Okanagan than they do back in Toronto area. Salt isn’t used around here on the roads, rather it’s plain old dirt that’s applied for grip in snowy conditions. I mentioned a couple of days ago that snow tires are a legal requirement.
What I didn’t mention is a lot of cars here have studded tires, something that’s only allowed in norther Ontario so entirely new to me.
All this to say, given the number of unfinished roads, the proximity to mountain driving and use of dirt on the roadways for traction, cars get really dirty here really quickly.
So, after a week of driving back and forth to the ski resort, John was eager to get the car washed.
The wash bay we chose was one of those that you pull your car into, put it in park and wait for the mechanics of the car wash to work their magic around your vehicle. While sitting there, I’ve been known to text friends, Google recipes, check movie times, look up directions, any number of things to bide the time.
Watching from under the suds
Today I just watched. I tried to remember the excitement I felt as a kid when my dad would drive our car through the magical tunnel. I would bounce around from front seat to back, untethered as all children were back then, watching with amazement.
Today’s experience was a bit more ‘trippy’ but it did conjure up a feeling of comfort. There we sat, covered in this tri-coloured goo and for a moment, I could almost forget what was going on in the world. For a moment, it was quiet and peaceful. The starkness of current events was held at bay by the psychedelic blanket we were wrapped in.
For a moment, it was just us. It didn’t last long but I’m grateful for the moment, nonetheless. It was cool, man.
And as we exited, I gave a little sigh, smiled and went on with the day.
