Working at the carwash
Ah, the joys of a newly minted driver’s license. The incessant urge to drive aimlessly from pillar to post, or suburb to suburb, just because you can. Noah has had his license for all of 10 days now and this Easter Sunday was his first trip through the carwash after filling up on Mom’s Shell card.
After a delicious holiday meal of chili-cheese pups, Krystals and fries at the Krystal’s adjoining the Shell station in Cool Springs, we ventured to the carwash where Noah pondered the intricacies of keypadding in the carwash code. He was slightly taken aback by having the put the car in neutral and taking his foot off the brake so the conveyer belt could inch us into the carwash.
Here we go! Noah was slighly unnerved by the sensation that we were floating backwad in the carwash when, in fact, we were moving forward. I always get disoriented, too, and have to check that I haven’t somehow shifted into reverse. Have you noticed that a lot of carwashes now have colored soap? It’s kind of cool.
Mission accomplished! A clean car outside, if not in. I tried to mentally steer him towards the vacuum to clean out the inside of the car but it was too much for a teen-aged slobby boy to manage. First words, first steps, first carwash. I’ll take the memories whereever I can get them.