Post by Delhux on Jan 19, 2002 13:17:49 GMT -5
That's what I'll have by the time this day is done. I cruised down to the car wash today (actually saw Ruzman there) so I could rid my car of all the filthy grease and grime that has been collecting on it for over a month; a month of winter driving, no less. I was sure I wasn't going to simply hose it down with soap/water, scrub it with that brush-deal, and then rinse it off. Noooooooo, I was supremely confident that I would deign to risk frostbite in order to evacuate the road sludge from my Mustang's cherry-red facade.
This is indeed what I did.
As I scrubbed the salt and tar and dust and dirt from my chariot's exterior with a wet towel covering my right hand, in my left I kept the hose; so I may spray the surface with more "preemptive ice", some would call it water--they are all fools in this sub-thirty degree weather of ours. The water merely accelerated the numbness that eventually forced me switch my impliments of purification to their respective opposite hands. The numbness, I found, made it impossible to control a jet-like stream of water, the hose thusly flew from my cold-embattled hand and sprayed what appeared to be a sheet of ice directly at my pants. By some miracle the sheet didn't immeadiatley shatter into a thousand pieces that should have dispersed themselves througout the garage-like car wash enclosure upon contacts with my khakis. Rather, I can only surmise that the sheet flash-thawed when it came within a micrometer of my kneecaps and soaked my legs thoroughly.
At this point my change allocation had completely dissapated and I needed to make a trip over the gas attendant to break a twenty. Looking as though both mine and several other people's bladders had inexplicably exploded inside my cargo pants, I requested change from a man whose name badge said "Bill", but anotehr customer repeatedly refered to him as "John". I got my change from Steve, or Edward, or Gus, or whoever it was I was speaking with shuffled my way back to the wash depot; as my pants were now rapidly decreasing in overall warmth.
To make the rest of this long story a bit shorter, I returned to the car, finished up, and drove away in leg-dripping shame.
Now that I've finshedthis long-ass post, and my delicious french toast, I am leaving to change the oil in my lady.
I'll scream when the ramps give out and crush my torso or genitals, as the case may be.
This is indeed what I did.
As I scrubbed the salt and tar and dust and dirt from my chariot's exterior with a wet towel covering my right hand, in my left I kept the hose; so I may spray the surface with more "preemptive ice", some would call it water--they are all fools in this sub-thirty degree weather of ours. The water merely accelerated the numbness that eventually forced me switch my impliments of purification to their respective opposite hands. The numbness, I found, made it impossible to control a jet-like stream of water, the hose thusly flew from my cold-embattled hand and sprayed what appeared to be a sheet of ice directly at my pants. By some miracle the sheet didn't immeadiatley shatter into a thousand pieces that should have dispersed themselves througout the garage-like car wash enclosure upon contacts with my khakis. Rather, I can only surmise that the sheet flash-thawed when it came within a micrometer of my kneecaps and soaked my legs thoroughly.
At this point my change allocation had completely dissapated and I needed to make a trip over the gas attendant to break a twenty. Looking as though both mine and several other people's bladders had inexplicably exploded inside my cargo pants, I requested change from a man whose name badge said "Bill", but anotehr customer repeatedly refered to him as "John". I got my change from Steve, or Edward, or Gus, or whoever it was I was speaking with shuffled my way back to the wash depot; as my pants were now rapidly decreasing in overall warmth.
To make the rest of this long story a bit shorter, I returned to the car, finished up, and drove away in leg-dripping shame.
Now that I've finshedthis long-ass post, and my delicious french toast, I am leaving to change the oil in my lady.
I'll scream when the ramps give out and crush my torso or genitals, as the case may be.
&&1998 Ford Mustang
. I on the other hand was a little more civilized today. Work was little slow, so I decided to bring in the trusty old nissan for a little TLC. I proceeded to give it a full tuneup, hand wash and towel dry, interior cleaning, and weight placed in the back(for those slippery snowy mornings), all in the comfort of a heated shop. Isn't life grand ;D