Carwash like sci-fi movie

By Scott Deininger
SPECIAL TO THE HERALD NEWS

I had a revelation recently: Washing my car may be as close as I will ever get to being a "Star Wars" hero.

I'm not speaking of the in-the-driveway-with-a-bucket-of-soapy-water-and-garden-hose wash. Rather, the do-it-yourself style at your local carwash, the one with the automatic as well as the self washes available. My experience happened at the carwash on Illinois 59 in Shorewood.

Before the wash came vacuuming the car's interior. This was nothing like "Star Wars" and more like an Olympic sport. Seriously, if you can successfully vacuum your entire car, mats and all, in the allotted time, you win the gold medal. If you fail to get to the back-seat mats, you earn silver. And if you fail to get to any of the mats, you get the bronze. (Hint: Keep your car a bit cleaner to avoid the bronze.)

Technology now has digital timers on the vacuums. For $1, you get four minutes to clean your car. That breaks down to about a minute each on the front floors, 30 seconds per floor in the back and then the remaining minute to be used on the mats.

The timer adds pressure to the mix. Falling behind may lead to the avoidance of the back-seat mats altogether. On top of that, the vacuum hose never positions itself where you need it. You're fighting with it like it's a crumb-sucking python, crawling over seats to get the best angle possible.

Then it happens — right in the middle of vacuuming you accidentally honk the horn and scare yourself half to death. But you barely have any time to regather yourself. Time is of the essence.

I earned the silver, just barely getting to the mats. No problem, though. I shook them out and even beat them against one another, leaving them virtually as good as new.

Now came the washing. I rolled my car into the lair where the sultan of suds was waiting.

I had done this many times before, always feeling like Han Solo battling a Storm Trooper. It's the mighty, super-duper watergun attached to a freewheeling cable-like beam that brings about such a feeling.

The quarters are stacked high, almost like a drinking game gone terribly awry.

You begin with the presoaking of the car. The water pressure isn't so intense in this stage, so the Hollywood feel hasn't been captured yet.

Then the foam brush comes into play. Again, still no Hollywood allure, unless you've got a job washing the Millennium Falcon.

Finally, it's time for the high-pressure soap application. This soap comes flying out of the giant water gun as you struggle to keep a firm grip, your hand already writhing in pain from the intense pressure.

You unleash the fury that is water and soap, while also trying not to strangle yourself with the coiled-up hose attached to the ceiling. At times you even have to duck and dodge the hose in an attempt to survive the ordeal. A spin-move or behind-the-back pass of the water gun may also be in order to simply maximize time and effect.

It's under a minute left as the timer sounds to let you know the end is near. Quarters are added and, for another two minutes and 20 seconds, the universe is safe.

Now it's time for the heavy-duty waxing to keep the enemy out and the maidens impressed. The smell of wax fills the air as the timer closes in on a minute once again.

The timer sounds, and the final rinse begins, although not nearly as demanding on your body as the earlier steps. The water ceases, and you jump in your machine and drive it home.

But first, it must be dried. Not with towels or anything else that might leave marks, however. (Although the soft and furry Chewbacca might pose as a nice shammy.) Rather, you must send it down the highway, letting the wind and sunshine work together to leave it looking great.

That is how I spent my Saturday afternoon, fighting rain residue and dirt sludge.

May the force be with you.

Scott Deininger is a standup comedian from Shorewood. More of his work can be found via his Web site, www.ShaveYourHead.com

06/22/03