Sponge, bucket and soap

I’ve been noticing the first signs of spring. Forget crocuses. That is so last month. I’m talking about community car washes.

I must admit I tend to avoid them because I never feel like I “donate” enough. Is two bucks too little? Is five bucks too much? Did they really get the roadkill off the back bumper?

Whenever you see the kids waving their signs remember this: their placards may say “Free Car Wash — Donations Accepted,” but that phrase carries the moral integrity of a sign that says “Will Work For Food.”

Another tip: “never make eye contact.” This will serve you well especially if your car is dirty. It takes determination to resist stopping when your car does need a wash. You can feel the eyes upon you as you try to slide on by. Kids scream at you! Grown-ups point at you! People with moist, clean cars bellow condemnation.

It’s especially unnerving when two different groups are holding car washes at the same time. How do you choose between a Cub Scout group and a volleyball team? A church group and a rescue squad? Who’d expect so many moral dilemmas on a Saturday?

Seeing those handmade, DayGlo signs brings back memories. I did my share of car washes back in my marching band days. I’ll never forget when one of our misguided horn players used a Brillo pad on one car’s paint job and tires. I think we stuck to candy sales after that.

It amazes me when I see people who have no concept of how to wash a car. I was raised to wash a car properly. The rod of correction was not spared when the sponge was handed over to me. I was learning real-life skills back then. Washing cars was not for fun or getting wet. It was a rite.

Here’s the routine passed down from my forebears: Start at the top, work your way down, keep the just-washed areas properly hosed lest the soap dry on them. Is that so hard?

The next step, if you survived, was waxing the vehicle. Waxing a car used to be a man’s vocation. Nowadays, with all these clear-coat finishes you use polish instead of wax. No more backbreaking effort. I feel almost cheated. What happened to the manly days of toiling over the old muscle car buffing with an old T-shirt? And when you worked off the wax you could see the oxidized paint staining the buffing rag. You knew you were doing it some good. Pine sap and other splotches came off right along with that first stratum of enamel lacquer. Today’s “polishes” appear to be nothing more than weekend waterproofing.

Here’s a neat twist on the subject: The local FFA recently hosted a tractor wash. Specifically, a tractor and farm implement wash — hay balers, hay conditioners, cattle trailers — bring ’em in for a hosedown! Do we live in the sticks or what? But think about it. In a time when every youth group and pony league team is trying to flag down errant motorists, here’s a truly original concept. Drive right up and let the fine, young lads in the blue corduroy jackets hose off that farm-fresh manure.

Hot wax and chamois buff are extra!