Wet Dreams and Carwashes

I am sitting inside my new Golf 6 Cabrio, at the carwash. I’m taking her for her first carwash. Third, actually, but the first two I did myself – this is one of those fancy roller machines they’re going to put over the car, and spray high pressure water at me in*.

This is my fourth cabriolet. I also took my brother-in-law’s ’72 450SL through a roller wash, once, so I am a little nervous.

Perhaps – given my experiences of these carwashes – I shouldn’t be sitting here, writing this blog on my tablet because if history repeats as it is wont to do, I am about to get very wet, and the tablet belongs to work, not me…

So far, Ruby (my cars have always had names – haven’t yours?**) is holding up well and I have yet to get a jet of cold, soapy water to the eye, but the rollers have yet to come over the car. So far it’s just the high-pressure hoses, and they don’t seem to be getting through the roof and window seals. So far, so good.

But…and…wait…but…oh. Huh. The chaps who are doing the wash seem to know all about cabriolets, I am not getting the roller wash – I am beckoned through the machine and round the back of the building, where a team quickly (after some urging by the carwash manager) gets to work giving Ruby the handjob she needs. Um. Did I really just write that? Yes, well, apparently so.

Using their machines and their swabs, they’re wiping and sucking and swabbing and shining and polishing. All very neat, and shiny-shiny.

Great! If I smoked, I’d feel like a cigarette, right about now.

So, there you have it – four cabriolets in – five if you count Joe’s SL and finally, one that can survive a carwash.

Well done, Volkswagen. Oh, and the team at BP Dorp Street.

*Ending a sentence on a preposition is something up with which I can put…

**Sheila, Suzy, Priscilla, Patsy, Doris Ethyl (or Babs, for short) and Ruby

© Dave Luis 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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