CAPTAIN CAR-WASH

I went to the car wash today. It’s been a while. Oh, as evidenced by the team of no fewer than five men who took it upon themselves to jet, scrub and brush every inch of my filthy car, before it rolled under the automatic brushes.

“At the end,” shouted the foreman over the noise, “Come out and back round. I want to take another look at your wheels.”

I imagined for a moment that that’s the kind of thing he’d only say to a Ferrari, but of course he meant my actual wheels, and sure enough, he and his overalled apprentice ended up scrubbing my wheels so rigorously, it was like sitting inside a listing ship on the high seas.

I’m not wholly sure I like the car wash. They do a good job, certainly, but you do feel a bit like you’re constantly being shouted at for being a bad driver/car owner. They bellow at each other too, over the rollers and the jets, indistinguishable yells of approval, disapproval, instruction and banter. At one point, one of them had another in a headlock. Thankfully, the headlockeee was laughing about it, even though I thought he was going to laugh his woolly hat off.

The giant brushes roll over the car, flicking the wing mirrors and car aerial. Blue, green, sopping monsters swallow you into darkness, then push you out the other side, where enormous funnels blow hot soap suds over your windscreen.

I always worry about leaks. What if you’ve left one of the windows not quite closed? What if a seal has perished, or a thin beam of water can creep in? Thankfully, there was nothing like that. I quickly found myself moving through the wall of rotating carpets, listening to the squeak across the glass and the metal as they mopped and wiped up the last droplets.

Why did he want to take a look at my wheels? I wondered. Was he going to tell me that they were on the wrong way round, or one was bent in or something? The last thing you need is to feel that kind of hospital-appointment anxiety at the car wash!

It was all fine. The apprentice scrubbed; I bounced around in the driving seat, captain of the ship with his big wheel - in the parking bay, next to the drive through car wash.

“Okay boss!” said he, saluting.

“Thank you!” I mouthed through the windscreen.