I think I can, I think I can...

Well, here I am. It's a beautiful Saturday morning, and Haley O. and I are getting some errands done. We've been to Target and the bank. Now it's time to hit up the gas station. I don't mind going to Target pajama clad since it's very early, but there's something about standing outside and pumping three hours worth of gas into my Canyonero while passing motorists judge me and my yoga pants. Also, I spent seven years living in Milford, a town where there's only full serve for some reason. What can I say? I'm lazy, spoiled, and think people are constantly staring at me.

I hit up the Route 1 Mobil in North Attleboro. While the attendant was emptying Haley's college fund as he filled up the tank, I stared at the drive through car wash located near the pumps. 'Hmmm,' I thought to myself. 'It's early. Is it open yet? Do I ask? How does this work?' I have never driven my car through one of these things before. Finally after the gas is in, and I'm considerably poorer I stammer out, 'Uh, is that car wash thingy open?' Yes. That is exactly what I said. The attendant visibly controlled himself and didn't burst out laughing (which he totally should have since I was wearing a hoodie and aviators, doing my best unabomber impression). 'Yes ma'am (fuck don't call me ma'am you little bastard!),' he replied. 'Just pull over there and they will help you.' I sure hope they will, because I totally need help.

So, in the 50 feet or so that I drive over to the car wash, I start sweating. Stupid hood. Then I realize it's because I'm freaking out about having to pull the car into the stupid little track thing that pulls it through. What if I run over a worker. Or worse, do some sort of damage to the car (I wouldn't have bothered coming home if that were the case). First comes the wave on. The young kid working the car wash keeps waving me forward. I inch forward. He waves. I inch. He keeps waving. I'm going metric and moving the car only centimeters at this point. He looks at me like I've lost my shit. I roll down the window, 'I'm sorry! I've never done this before,' I shout. 'O-k-a-y.' Now this little asshat is speaking slowly and loudly to me like I'm some sort of training wheel. Which I suppose I am at this point. 'PULL FORWARD! PUT THE CAR IN NEUTRAL. THE ONE THAT IS THE LETTER N. THEN TAKE YOUR FOOT OFF THE BRAKE. THAT WILL BE EIGHT DOLLARS.' I give the kid a 10 and tell him to keep the change. He laughs and says thanks. What did I just do? I don't know car wash etiquette. Did I just insult him with my two dollar tip (Hey, kid you don't want to know what I had to do to earn that two dollars. Hint: it involves wiping people's asses)? Who knows. Now Haley O. and I are rolling through the car wash. Yahoo. I'm on the track, no one is dead, and the truck is still in one piece.

'Scary! Dark! Monsters!' Haley is gleefully shouting from the backseat. She's having a blast pretending we're in a haunted cave or some shit.

Meanwhile I'm thinking ahead to what will happen when we get to the end. Will I know when to put the car in drive (THE ONE WITH THE LETTER D-the kid's voice says in my head), how will I unfold the passenger side mirror (uh, get out of the car, dipshit)? The track dumps us onto the pavement and I gingerly put the car into drive, stop the car, flip out the mirrors and celebrate my new ability. I come home and check the weather. Ugh, it's supposed to rain tomorrow. Excellent timing.

Once again I marvel that I've managed to get through life without natural selection taking me out.