Sometimes the risk is not worth the reward

FROM MY FRONT PORCH

Sometimes the risk is not worth the reward

SAM HOUSTON

Sam Houston is the publisher of the Hood County News. He is also an actor, author, playwright, performer and entertainment producer/promoter.

It was some years ago, but on this summer day, my vehicle was in serious need of a car wash. The temperature had been locked into that mid-summer 95- to 105-degree block, so everything in the entire county was dried out and dusty. I had the unfortunate experience of having driven down an unpaved road, and the result was a thin layer of gravel road dust on the surface of my car. The dust was everywhere, making it hard to see out the windows and heaven forbid if I accidentally brushed up against the car because the filth would be all over me.

Normally when I washed my car, I would utilize the big commercial car wash on the far end of town, but on this occasion, I needed some gasoline, so I pulled into a convenience store that had an attached “car wash.” The full-service car wash I normally patronized did a significantly better job than the place I pulled into, but with the weather the way it had been, my car was not going to stay clean for very long. The location I chose offered a free car wash with a fill-up, and since I was needing fuel, it made sense to get the car rinsed off too. I would save time and money.

I filled the car and then went inside the convenience store, where the clerk gave me a slip of paper with a code written upon it. She told me to drive around back, pull up to the car wash entrance, type in the code, and then drive on through. I happily took the code from the clerk, jumped in the car and circled the building to get to where the wash entrance was located. Once I pulled up, I entered the code and drove forward into the car wash, but nothing happened. No lights came on, no water or soap came out of the automated nozzles; nothing.

I backed out of the car wash and once again typed in the code provided by the clerk. I then drove into the wash and, once again, was met with no mechanical activity whatsoever. This car wash was as dead as a can of tuna!

Not one to be deterred from receiving my gratis car wash, I threw my vehicle into park and set out to march back into the convenience store and demand the clerk do something to make the car wash work. I surveyed the situation and started to walk the length of the building, reversing the route I had taken when I drove in. Then I stopped. Why in heaven’s name should I walk all the way around the building and then walk all the way back? A smart guy would walk through the car wash and cut off a good couple of 200 feet of travel and be right at the front door of the store. Surely saving a few steps made more sense than walking all the way around the building on a hot summer day.

As I initiated my plan, I took no more than three steps into the car wash when the heavens exploded. It happened suddenly and without warning. It took me a good three or four seconds before I could even comprehend what the heck was happening. The first sensation I recall was jets of water going up the legs of my shorts, and then almost immediately being hit with a blast of soapy white foam. It seemed like water and soap were coming at me from every different direction, soaking my clothes and leaving a white slimy chemical in my hair, eyes, ears, and other parts of my body too personal to mention. The suddenness scared me, and once I got my wits about me, I went running out the entrance door of the car wash, saying words I would not say in Sunday school, realizing that my actions had triggered the car wash to begin.

I was soaking wet. There was no towel in my car or any sort of rag to dry off with. When I got back into the car, the soap and water from my body dripped and soaked my carpet and my upholstery. For a few minutes, I sat there trying to absorb what had just happened. The look on my face was one of embarrassment and frustration, and probably some incomprehension about what had just occurred. I drove home to change my clothes and wipe out the car’s interior and seats.

I never did get a car wash that day, and saving a few steps seemed like a poor bargain.

Thought for the day: A bend in the road is not the end of the road unless you fail to navigate the turn.

Until next time, I will keep ridin’ the storm out.

sam@hcnews.com | 817-573-7066, ext. 260