Talking 'bout the Car Wash

I confess. I'm bang to rights. I cannot shy away from it any longer. I, Terry Hayward, am a lazy man.



Now this may not come as such a shock for some people. The present Mrs Hayward for one. It's not a universal laziness I must say. It really comes down to the onerous task of cleaning. Especially the car. 



Sometimes I think our car is too small, which is a ridiculous thought, but when I have to clean the thing it suddenly takes on the size and dimensions of a tank.



This is why the last time I actually cleaned the car myself was some time in the last decade. In the intervening years I have discovered the joys of the automated car wash. I think it's because I always wanted my parents to go through one when I was a kid but they, in my opinion, were too tightfisted to take their car through the car wash, instead preferring to attack it with a bucket and sponge.



To young Terry the automated car wash appeared to be like a wonderful theme park ride, where the car would be engulfed in bubbles and buffeted by jets of water whilst I sat inside. I lead a sheltered life. Did I mention I came from the Isle of Wight...?



Of course the automated car wash isn't quite as exciting as that, although there's always the danger that the big drying implement is going to develop a fault and smash through the windscreen thereby decapitating me. I do like that thrill of danger in everyday tasks.



However yesterday, when considering a trip to the car wash, I decided that the inside of the car also needed a bit of a spruce. So I eschewed technology and visited one of those car washes manned by real life people. The hand car wash.



It was a new and exciting experience. Firstly my vehicle and I were ushered forwards into their lair, whereupon some men with limited English escorted me out of the car. They then attacked the inside of the motor with heavy-duty vacuum cleaners, removing all manner of debris and detritus.

Once this was completed I was encouraged back into the car, to drive around to the next stage where two rather large-handed men sprayed waterjets and foam at the car whilst I was left sat inside, wondering if that chip in the windscreen might finally develop into a crack and then smash altogether, cascading glass fragments and bubbles all over me like an S&M foam party. 



Once these burly men were satisfied that their job had been done they beckoned me to go further forwards in the car as they pursued me with their high pressure water jets. I then had to vacate the vehicle again as yet another big man came along and opened the door and nodded to the side. Even more men then descended, I know not from where, with cloths and chamois leather, and they hastily wiped the inside of the windows and the dashboard.



I was impressed by their speed and efficiency. No nook or cranny was left untouched and, before I knew it, it was all over and I handed a crumpled ten pound note to the big man.



Heading away from the car wash I noticed that they'd kindly attached a magic tree air freshener to the indicator stick on the left-hand side of the steering wheel, an unusual place to put it I thought. So now not only is the car sparkling clean on the inside, I also have a faux cedar smell wafting throughout.



As I drove away into the mean streets of Peterborough I realised that my days of visiting an automatic car wash were over. For just a few quid more than the automatic car wash these gentlemen had transformed my motor back to the days when it was nearly new. So much so that I was inspired to go and buy some new mats for the floor. 



I look on it that I'm keeping the wheels of industry turning and doing something to reinvigorate the British economy. Or at the very least the Polish economy. I may be a lazy man when it comes to cleaning the car but I'm a very energetic man when it comes to supporting local businesses.



Well that's my story anyway.