Another Day in the Country
Small thrills
© Another Day in the Country
We watched them building a new car wash in Salina and marveled at all of the glass in this long building.
We wondered how many things you could do to wash a car that could take that long.
From the size of things, this was not going to be an ordinary, three-car-garage-size car wash. This looked more like a car spa, with long mechanical arms to do a massage before the bath.
This indulgence for four-wheeled vehicles offered the whole package — like an exercise club that might also offer manicures, pedicures, and a new hairdo under one roof.
We could wash, wax, shine up the tires, vacuum, and polish anything and everything in one fell swoop.
My sister recently got a different car — a sweet little navy-blue sedan.
“I think I’m going to join this car wash club,” she said. “It would be worth it to get a car wash every week. My car deserves that, don’t you think?”
So, on our next visit to Salina, she got a magic sticker that allows you to go through the car wash as often as you like.
Our first time through, I took pictures. Really. They are beautiful. It was quite the experience. Very exciting.
You line up your car with an attendant coaching you to “now take your hands off the wheel and foot off the pedal and just enjoy the ride.”
We were anticipating the water as we went deeper into the tunnel. It’s like a spring rain at first. Then, the suds come with long slathers of foam strips sliding along your car as you are pelted from all sides with sprinklers.
Lights then flash, and floods of water rinse over the car in patterns. It’s actually quite beautiful in shades of blue and purple.
Next come big brushes over the top and along the sides. More soap, then rinse. And now along the sides of the tunnel, a sign flashes to tell you that a special rinsing solution, which leaves no spots, is being applied.
The lights change color. Another sign flashes to tell you that wax is going on to make your car shine.
The lights change color again because now your wheels are being addressed.
You wouldn’t want to put on a new outfit and have mud on your shoes. Your car isn’t really washed and shined until the wheels are blackened — like putting on mascara.
Then, with all the lights flashing, there’s a whoosh of air, and the car is being dried. Drops of water skitter all over. Think of having a blow-dry at a hair salon and magnify it by 10.
Finally, we are at the end of the experience. Wait for it. The light is yellow, then flashes green, and you are free to go into an area with vacuums and polishing rags galore and squirt bottles with cleaning potions.
You can burnish, rub, spot-check the mats, and vacuum and clean the inside of your car to your heart’s content.
Driving away, the owners of the business are happy, and they thank you for being such a good customer. (It’s a sign you have to read, but oh well.) And we are happy because the car is sparkling in the spring sunshine and looks a lot more expensive than it really was, promising that the rest of our day will be glorious because we’re driving in a shiny, clean car.
“That’s one of my favorite small thrills,” my sister chuckled as we pulled out into traffic.
Hmm. I began to wonder what my favorite small thrills would be. The first thing that came to mind was pasta fagioli soup at a favorite restaurant. It was lunch time, after all.
The idea of small pleasures was running around in my mind all day.
When we got home from errands, I had plants to put out, and I could see perennial flowers lifting their heads up through the mulch. It’s such a pleasure to see them return year after year.
The hosta plants are literally twirling their way to the surface along with the lily of the valley that I’d transplanted last fall from across the street.
“Hello,” I said, “so nice to see you. It’s supposed to rain in a day or two. I’m sure you’ll love it — almost as much as we loved the car wash.”
But I’m not sure they got the drift. What was drifting through the flower beds were fall leaves. I let them stay. They’ll break down this year and enrich the soil.
I recycle all my cardboard boxes from Amazon and use them as mulch, covering them with prairie hay.
When I opened a bale of hay, the sweet smell of green, dry, prairie grass drifted up to me.
I love that smell. I’ll add that to the small thrills list, which now includes eating (and spitting) sunflower seeds (outdoors of course), the smell of coffeecake baking, and reading any book by Kate Atkinson or Maggie O’Farrell.
I must admit, it also was a small thrill to sit down at my computer, feeling fairly proficient with all its new bells and whistles, and actually be able to read the scribbles I’d made riding along in the shining clean car, contemplating completing this column, on another day in the country.