Here it is, yet another story about something that would only happen to me. I already mentioned in the first part of this story that the Murphymobile was rusted out with parts of the car missing and that the bumper was hanging by a thread. I don’t know what possessed me to do this with my car in the condition that it was, but common sense has never stopped me before, so why start now?
It was sunny and warm so I decided to spend a portion of my lunch break to venture out to the new automated car wash by my office. I bought a token and pulled around to take my place in line. When it was my turn, I inserted my token, pushed the button and awaited further instructions by the women’s voice coming from the box. At her command I pulled my car into the carwash bay.
The water came on, the brushes went swish swish, a green light came on to tell me that my automated experience was over and the voice instructed me to pull forward. All was going well as I exited the bay when I heard a loud scraping sound followed by a clunk and then silence. I stopped my car and got out thinking, “What the heck was that?” I looked at the back of my car thinking it looked kind of funny and then I realized the bumper was gone. “Where did it go?” Then I saw it, my bumper, lying over the drain grate in the middle of the car wash. It had apparently been too weak to survive the powerful brushes and had fallen off. This was really kind of embarrassing, but I didn’t really have much time to think about it because the van behind me had already inserted their token, received the green light and was inching ahead. It all gets very surreal from here and I began to feel like I was in a Salvador Dali painting or something.
On instinct I ran back into the bay and was waving my arms around for the van to stop when the sprayers came on and soapy water began to rain down on me. The van saw me and stopped, so I squatted in my skirt and heels to pick up my bumper off the pavement. I realized too late that the heel of my shoe was stuck in the metal grate and as I turned to run my right foot had other plans. I fell forward onto the wet concrete, scraping my left knee and twisting my right ankle. I knew I didn’t have long before the sprayers began to propel water at hurricane speeds. My adrenaline kicked in and I popped back up with my bumper in my arms, one shoe on and one shoe off and hobbled out to safety. The whole way out of the tunnel I was having visions of myself being beaten to death by the huge blue and white twirling brushes. It was like a bad dream. I could see the headlines “Young woman killed in car wash found clutching what appears to be her car bumper – still a mystery.”
I was sitting on the side of the retaining wall soaking wet, a huge hole torn in my pantyhose with mascara dripping down my face Alice Cooper style when the van behind me came out of the car wash tunnel. Even though I had started out the morning looking rather stylish, I now resembled an escaped mental patient or perhaps someone who had found their way out of a serial killer’s basement. I thanked the nice man in the van for not running over me as he handed me back my shoe that he had wrenched out of the grate. I shuffled back to my car and waved to him as I drove away with my bumper in tow.
But wait, there’s more and I swear every word of this is true. My spirits now dampened I decided to drive through Jack-in-the-Box for a Jack Burrito and go back to the office where maybe I could at least dry my hair on the vent from the hand sanitizing dryer. Here’s where I’ll say that it’s probably not a good idea to drive around town with the bumper of your car wedged between the bucket seats of your Datsun stick shift.
As I maneuvered through the drive-up, the bumper shifted causing a series of events that resulted in my car colliding with the Jack-in-the-Box clown. After I pulled my car back down off the curb where it had come to rest, I sat there watching the clown bob back and forth on that big spring. A disembodied voice asked me if they could take my order. I told them that I had accidentally hit the clown and I think I cracked his plastic head. The voice said not to worry, that it happened all the time and the crack was already there from an earlier encounter involving an intoxicated party in search of a burger and fries.
The people at Jack-in-the Box drive-up window felt sorry for me when I told them my story about the bumper and the car wash. After all they had to believe me I was sitting there soaked with my bumper next to me in the car. They gave me a Diet Coke on the house to go with my Jack Burrito, so I had that going for me. Maybe the day would get better now. After all what else could happen? I should have known better than to ask. This is not the end of the story, it actually gets worse.
Stay Tuned for A Typical Day on Dorcas Street Part 3 – The Bathroom
Tales from Murphyland - and other stuff 