Hot Josh and the Automatic Car Wash Hostage Situation
I take pride in my appearance.
My hair.
My clothes.
My shoes.
My car.
Everything should look like it belongs to someone who has his life together.
Whether I actually have my life together is a separate discussion.
So when I noticed a bird had deposited something unpleasant directly in the middle of my windshield, I took it personally.
Not because birds understand property rights.
Clearly, they don’t.
But because this particular bird had selected my vehicle from an entire parking lot.
An intentional act.
Possibly targeted.
I drove to the automatic car wash.
The sign advertised three packages.
BASIC WASH: $9
DELUXE WASH: $14
ULTIMATE PREMIUM: $18
Naturally, I selected Ultimate Premium.
I’m not a basic person.
And I refuse to subject my car to basic treatment.
The screen displayed my purchase.
ULTIMATE PREMIUM WASH
CERAMIC PROTECTION
TRIPLE FOAM
SPOT-FREE RINSE
TIRE SHINE
MAXIMUM CLEAN
Maximum.
An important word.
I paid.
The gate opened.
I drove forward.
A mechanical voice instructed me to stop.
I stopped.
Then it instructed me to place the vehicle in neutral.
I complied.
Then it told me to release the brake.
I complied again.
For eighteen dollars, I was receiving an astonishing number of instructions.
The conveyor belt pulled my car forward.
The machinery came alive.
Water blasted the windshield.
Colorful foam covered the windows.
Huge brushes spun around the vehicle.
Blue lights.
Purple lights.
Green lights.
Honestly, it was more entertaining than some concerts I’ve attended.
For approximately four minutes, I sat inside a vibrating disco operated by industrial plumbing.
Then the dryers activated.
Massive jets of air blasted the vehicle.
The car emerged.
Clean.
Shiny.
Beautiful.
Almost.
I pulled into the inspection area.
Stepped out.
Walked around the car.
The tires looked fantastic.
The paint gleamed.
The windows sparkled.
Then I saw it.
The bird dropping.
Still there.
Smaller.
But there.
Directly in the middle of my windshield.
Unbelievable.
I stared at it.
It stared back.
This bird had apparently used military-grade adhesive.
I returned to the payment kiosk.
An attendant approached.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
He looked concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
I pointed toward my windshield.
“Your maximum clean appears to have a minimum exception.”
He looked at the spot.
“Oh, yeah. Sometimes those need a little extra attention.”
I nodded.
“Interesting.”
He waited.
I continued.
“So the Ultimate Premium package doesn’t remove everything?”
“Not always.”
“Then why is it called Ultimate?”
He laughed.
“That’s just the name of the package.”
“Ah.”
I folded my arms.
“So Ultimate is more of an aspiration.”
He smiled.
“I guess you could say that.”
“And Maximum Clean?”
“That’s our top wash.”
“Not maximum cleanliness?”
He laughed again.
“Sir, it’s a car wash.”
I looked toward the machinery.
Then at the windshield.
Then back at him.
“I paid eighteen dollars to have a machine attack my vehicle with approximately six thousand gallons of enthusiasm, and one bird has defeated the entire operation.”
He was laughing now.
I wasn’t finished.
“I’d like a second wash.”
“Sure. We can run you through again.”
Excellent.
A reasonable solution.
I returned to my car.
Drove around the building.
Entered the wash again.
The machinery activated.
More water.
More foam.
More spinning brushes.
More colorful lights.
I was beginning to recognize the sequence.
By the second purple light, I felt like a season-ticket holder.
The dryers blasted.
The gate opened.
I emerged.
Pulled over.
Inspected.
And there it was.
Still there.
The bird dropping had survived two premium washes.
At this point, I was no longer dealing with dirt.
I was dealing with an opponent.
I returned to the attendant.
He saw me approaching.
His smile disappeared.
“Still there?”
I nodded.
“Still there.”
He walked over.
Looked at the windshield.
Then did something extraordinary.
He took a damp microfiber cloth.
Wiped the spot.
Once.
And it disappeared.
Completely.
I stared.
He stared.
We both stared at the clean windshield.
Four seconds.
One cloth.
Problem solved.
I looked toward the enormous automatic car wash.
The conveyor belt.
The spinning brushes.
The colorful foam.
The high-pressure jets.
The industrial dryers.
Then back at the attendant.
“So…”
He was already smiling.
“…you’re telling me the eighteen-dollar Ultimate Premium system was defeated by a damp rag?”
He burst out laughing.
I remained composed.
Externally.
Internally, I was reviewing every decision that had brought me here.
He handed me the cloth.
“Sometimes you just need to wipe it.”
I nodded slowly.
“Revolutionary.”
He laughed harder.
I looked at the cloth.
Then at the windshield.
Then at the car wash.
“I have a suggestion.”
“What’s that?”
“Add a nineteen-dollar package.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“What would that include?”
I held up the cloth.
“This.”
He nearly doubled over laughing.
I continued.
“Call it Ultimate Premium Plus.”
“Okay.”
“Include everything from the eighteen-dollar package.”
“Right.”
“Then have a human being inspect the vehicle and remove anything the machine missed.”
He nodded.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
I smiled.
Finally.
Recognition.
“Of course it isn’t.”
I handed back the cloth.
Then remembered something.
“One more question.”
“Sure.”
“Do you offer a satisfaction guarantee?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
“Are you satisfied now?”
I looked at my spotless windshield.
Then at my gleaming car.
Then at the attendant.
“Almost.”
He sighed.
“What else?”
“I’ve now been through the car wash twice.”
“Yes.”
“And spent approximately twenty minutes resolving this.”
“Okay.”
“Does that qualify me for a loyalty reward?”
He laughed.
“No.”
“Complimentary air freshener?”
He considered it.
Then reached into a small box.
Pulled out a pine-scented air freshener.
And handed it to me.
“Here.”
Victory.
At last.
I thanked him.
Returned to my car.
And drove away.
The vehicle looked magnificent.
The windshield was spotless.
The tires gleamed.
And a tiny cardboard tree swung proudly from my rearview mirror.
I felt accomplished.
Then, at the very next traffic light, something landed on my hood.
SPLAT.
I looked up.
A bird sat on the traffic signal.
Watching.
I stared at it.
The bird stared back.
I slowly lowered my window.
“Don’t even think about it.”
The bird flew away.
I looked at my hood.
Another dropping.
Fresh.
Prominent.
Absolutely deliberate.
I considered turning around.
Then I looked at the air freshener.
Smelled the artificial pine.
And made a decision.
Some battles aren’t worth fighting.
Especially when your opponent can fly.
The lesson?
Hot Josh believes paying for the Ultimate Premium experience should produce ultimate premium results.
But sometimes the most sophisticated technology in the world can’t replace a little common sense.
And sometimes, no matter how much you pay, a bird still gets the final word.
