Talking about the car wash, babe

Did I mention that I love my new car?

As a person who’s never really been into cars in a big way, except for when I got my posemobile all those years ago, I don’t really take that much interest in them and you’d certainly not catch me watching Top Gear.  Maybe I’m still on the rebound from my short but disastrous reltationship with my previous car, that ‘orrible Freelander, God, I was glad to see the back of that one, I can tell you. Whatever the reason, I love my car.

It struck me a little while ago while on a particularly long and boring motorway journey that if they made Grand Vitara’s in Lancashire they could call them Reet Grand Vitara’s. What a great marketing tag line that’d be!

‘Awreet Cocker, tha mun get thi  Reet Grand Vitara fre a dealer near thy terday. Med in Lanky fer Lanky fork. Aye.’


Anyway, since I love my new car so very much I’ve decided to give it a weekly wash and keep it looking gorgeous (just don’t look too closely inside).  It’s been as dusty as a one horse mid western town round here since it hasn’t rained for a few weeks, so it’s fair to say that it was a bit on the mucky side and definitely not looking it’s best.

As an extra special treat I decided to give her the ‘full monty’ £5 drive through car wash yesterday.

Those drive through car washes absolutely scare the bejaysus out of me so that just proves how much I love my car to be putting it through there. The brushes started swishing and the water started pouring. As normal I checked the windows twenty seven million times to make sure they were all shut and then sang to drown out the noise. Swish, swish, swish went the brushes with an almost hypnotic sound, I was gradually getting used to and almost being lulled by the rythmic sound.  Not as bad as I’d thought this.

Swish, swish, swish.

Swish, swish, swish, clank.  Huh?

Swish, clank, swish, clank.

That can’t be good.

When the brushes parted like a stage curtain they revealed the sorry spectacle of my car arial hanging forlornly on the windscreen.

NOOOO, I forgot to retract the arial. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrappitycrap!!

My poor car! It was supposed to be a treat, a nice gentle massage clean not a torture session, poor car,  ripped apart limb from limb!

Telling Bob of our misfortune when he got home – although I think he already had a pretty good idea as the errant arial was lying on the garden table, he turned into Mr State The Bleeding Obvious and pointed out to me that it’s customary to retract the arial before going through a car wash. “Really, dear? Fancy.”

Hhhmmph, well don’t worry, we wont be doing it again, it’s far too stressful. It’s the jet wash for me in future.


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