I drove past a building today that I've driven past, oh probably a million (not kidding
) times in my life. Sometimes buildings fade into the background and I don't even notice them any more. I mean, I know they are there. But I don't really look
But today I looked at this particular building. A brand new shiny sign out front caught my eye. The sign has two words on it, but I only remember one: Carwash.
A childhood memory of that building relates directly to the old
sign. When it was a carwash of a different name. Back then, the sign regularly displayed Christian messages like "Jesus Loves a Clean Car" and "It's a Sin To Drive a Dirty Auto". Who knew?
I'm rather slothful about keeping my car clean. It's never been a priority. I mean, as soon as it gets washed it just gets dirty again. Like immediately. The rain rinses it well enough every so often. I don't feel the same about the interior. I like the interior fairly clean with minimal debris and/or clutter. It's much easier to keep it that way with The Boy away at school.
The Boy tends more after his father when it comes to the interior of the car, yet not to his dad's extreme. His father, BG, has always has the most clutter, the most crap, the most bizarre collection of shit
in his car that sometimes there is only room for the driver. Seriously.
BG had an accident many years ago and his only severe injuries were caused by
the incredible amount of absolute junk
important personal possessions flying around inside the car.
Way way way way back, I had cause to borrow his car one evening. I was taking two friends out somewhere. It was a cold winter evening, the kind where you can see your breath when you talk. We piled into the old Ford Pinto stationwagon, the three of us. I started the engine and as we sat waiting for it to warm up a bit, we were laughing and yucking it up. Naturally the windows fogged up.
We were ready to roll, but the defroster hadn't geared up enough to clear the windows. I reached over into the passenger foot area to find something to wipe it off with. My searching hand brushed against something soft and I deemed whatever it was to be a good window-wiping-off thing.
As I started rubbing the windshield with it, however, I realized what it was. It was a freaking banana peel. On the floor of the car. Just left there. It had been there a while. On top of a pile of could-be-anything other crap.
We three found it incredibly amusing. Our laughter fogged the windows again.
For reasons unknown, it's one of my favorite stories to tell about BG. I don't tell it in a mean way, more in a "here's an endearing BG story" way. I mean, if you know him, you just have to laugh. Because it's so him
. And that's okay. Because I
don't have to live with it!