One of Those Mysteries
I envision a neighbor of mine carrying a bucket of soapy water and a sponge, contentedly slopping sudsy water on one side of his car while it sits shining in the moonlight, parked in his driveway at midnight. He whistles a tune noiselessly while he washes away the filth and grime as the rest of us sleep, unknowing of his nocturnal labor. And then before a rooster can stir, he has effortlessly dried and polished each surface, leaving the car in perfect condition.
While we slumber, the last traces of water disappear from his driveway as the sun comes up. It rises above the roofs of houses by the time the rest of us finally emerge from our collective front doors to greet the day, and while clueless eyes fall upon his gleaming car that sits in the dry driveway, only mine seem to squint in suspicion.
“How does he manage that?”
But I know better than to ask. He hails from England, this neighbor of mine, and in all likelihood will just shrug his shoulders in an off-handed manner, and then swear he never drove the darn thing, or that it came like that from the factory.
Now look at that rusty old van I drive, and you would think I might be jealous. But that is not the case at all. Just because I stand over here in my yard and admire his car? Just because I sometimes get up at four in the morning and run out and polish up the mirror on my vehicle that’s held in place with strapping tape? Taking a spray bottle of Windex and a handful of paper towels out there under the cover of darkness makes you think that?
Friend, I am obliged to shake my head and laugh if that is what you are thinking. Why, I was already this obsessed before the bloke moved in, I can tell you that with an absolute certainty. But I remain mystified as to how easy he makes the chore look.
(You can join with me as I take my daily look at what he has parked in his driveway by clicking on this site below)