Car Wash

I'm not sure what exactly I did to piss off the fates today (maybe it was me bashing the Fortune I got) but something is just not lining up for me.

Today I had to wash the family car. This is where it begins. I have a fairly sketchy history with appliances. I've set my fire alarm off with my toaster (more than once), I've managed to break several CD players, I've gotten very close to making my microwave spontaneously combust, and I've flooded my kitchen with the dishwasher.

God knows how I got it in my head that I'd be safe at the car wash. Now I'm generally kind of a low maintenance sort of girl (read: lazy) so I'm used to the automatic car washes - the kind where you just sit there, do as the lights say, and enjoy watching your automobile get sprayed with rainbow colored goo. However now that I'm living with my mother again (I'm pretending to do that whole "college" thing) I have to go use one of the manual car washes per her request/demand. Yea - these are the kind where you actually have to get out of the car. That right there is trouble for me.

So off I'm sent to the car wash with enough quarters to buy myself a new laptop and enough towels piled up in the back that I cant see out my review mirror. Great fun. I pull into my little hallway/covered parking stall thing, all the while trying to verbally psych myself up for whatever it is I've been drug into.

Now maybe in other states these car washes aren't so bad but I live in Logan and we're about six years behind the times up here so the car washing technology of this particular place is definitely not up to par. The quarter accepting thingy is permanently rusted to the ground, a hand turned mechanism, and completely eroded of all its directions. I have a timer flashing red numbers at me that I don't understand and a long black wand that I'd rather not touch. Needless to say I'm pretty much scared shitless at this point. However since I like to think of myself as fairly capable and of decent intelligence I decide to suck it up and tackle this whole 1990's car washing thing.

I insert my quarters.
I wait patiently for the little numbers to change.
I carefully pick up the black wand.
Still waiting patiently....
Still here.....

Nothing happens. Great. Of all the little empty car slots (and they're all empty since I'm the only one here) I have to go pick the faulty one. In retrospect I wish I had left at this point.

So I put back the black wand, stroll out of the stall, and look around for someone to help me. No one in sight. Go figure. As I turn back to look at my car I realize that my black wand - useless only seconds ago - now has a nice little stream of water coming from it. Aha. I knew I could do it. I jog back over to my car but by the time I get there the water has stopped. What the hell? I pick up the wand, shake it a few times, tap my quarter machine, and very carefully peer into the end of it.

When this kind of thing happens in movies the whole audience is gripping their arm rests, covering their eyes, and asking aloud why is it that people do such ridiculous things in movies? I am the poster child for this kind of bad luck/stupidity/sheer ignorance. Just as I get close enough to really get a good look the stream starts up again. But this time its mixed with some kind of soapy liquid. Fortunately my reflexes kicked in and I kind of did a little spastic jump away from the opening. Not so fortunate was I to think to let go. Instead I held on and got sufficiently drenched with some kind of nasty car cleansing mixture. Immediately following that was another burst of water that left me running for my car door. I didn't make it before the dryers turned on.

When I got home this is what my little sister said to me:

"Why do you look like a rat that someone came after with a blow dryer?"

Never again.

Lizzy

Open Minded

The thing with a small town is that you can never really know just what you've gotten yourself into. Every small(er) town has unique qualities that, along with its inhabitants, define its very essence. Its not uncommon for small communities to be based around a trade. The midland plains of the U.S. are peppered with these capsules of time, akin to a walk down memory lane, most of them are centered around farming and agricultural professions. Logan, Utah - a growing settlement with a population of just under fifty thousand - happens to be one of these towns. Its defining attribute being that its also home to one of the states' finer universities. As a result Logan is a stark but interesting contrast of the educated and simple-seeking. Those who have seen and done and ultimately chose to retire to a more unassuming way of life. Amidst various complaints of its minimal shopping, small-minded religious fanatics, and unreliable snow removal services (complaints often hurled at small-towns that remain unnoticed in large cities) there is a peacefulness to Logan, encouraged by its more refined residents, that might otherwise be ignored. Those of us that might be too quick to judge Logan by its slow-moving, if archaic, pace would be sadly mistaken. The remarkable thing with Logan, and many other small towns, is that it tends to unfold for its residents in ways that a larger, impersonal city cannot. One might be reminded of Edward Abbey's belief that "You can't see anything from a car; you've got to get out of the goddamn contraption and walk." In the same spirit a small town can quickly make a surprising impression on its visitors but only if they express the willingness to be impressed upon. In that respect we might all do well to be a little more open minded.