The Wash

I have a confession to make: I actually enjoy washing my car. Actually, if I’m in the mood (or just want to get in the wifey’s good graces), I’ll even wash my wife’s car. The routine is nothing special. Uncoil the garden hose and try not to tangle it up with the plants, bring out the pail, mix the shampoo with water, hose, scrub, rinse, wipe. Oh yes, plug the iPod into the boombox so I’ll have tunes to drown out the neighborhood chatter.

Washing the car is a ritual I’ve recently gotten re-acquainted with. Back when I was commuting to and from Quezon City, I brought the car to the wash right beside the office every few days. It was a very convenient routine; possibly too convenient. I’d spend the whole day at my desk, walk down to the parking lot, and wonder where my car was before remembering I’d dropped it off at the carwash that morning. Since I don’t work in QC anymore, the nearest carwash is a 5-minute drive away. Aside from the fact that the last time I had it washed the bumbling carwash boy actually bounced a basketball off a fender(?!), washing one’s own car has its own rewards.

You see, the househelp and any “carwash boy” can do the job, but not knowing cars they just don’t know the proper way to do it. I don’t know about you, but I’m nothing if not anal about the little streaks and watermarks that ruin a good sheen. Drying it is a race against time because you want to wipe it down before the water dries up and leaves those annoying dots and streaks. For me (and possibly for a lot of owners), the car is one of the few, expensive, depreciating assets in one’s personal inventory, and if it’s not maintained well then I’m not doing myself any favors. Keeping it clean is one of the first rules of responsible ownership.

Besides, who wants to drive a dirty car? As any male teen will tell you, chicks don’t dig dirty wheels. I’m personally embarassed when the wife and I have to drive somewhere in a dirty car; it’s worse than walking around in a soiled shirt. Valets won’t respect you, parking lot attendants try to hide their smirks, and security guards will strictly enforce their “No ID, No Entry” rule in the face of a hideously dirty (and possibly suspect) vehicle. Parked in front of your home, a grimy car tells your neighbors that you’re a slob. It may even bring down the value of your house. Mainly, though, it’s just good hygiene.

As prep for my prized “Student’s Permit”, my dad made me wash the family car every weekend. I learned the finer points of wiping, the importance of chamois, and how you should leave the hood and windows for last (they dry faster). We had dedicated rags for the body, the wheels, and the interior. We had a cabinet full of shampoos, waxes, tire black, and that glorious anti-aging, throw-me-back-to-the-80s potion for dashboards: extra shiny Armor All.

As a bonus, I’d wash the car an extra day in the week for P50. That was back in 1993, so adjusted for inflation it was a pretty good racket, at a time when few budding roadside entreprenuers had seen the profits to be made from the chore. Aside from the various family cars that have passed through our hands, I’ve only ever washed two other cars that we didn’t own. For me, these were cars I enjoyed so much that washing them was just one more way to really get a feel for the whole machine. That sounds vaguely fetishistic, but every enthusiant knows the feeling of running one’s hand over sensually sculpted sheetmetal.

The first was a 1975 Datsun 280 “Fairlady” loaned to us by a family friend at a time when we were in between cars. It was a fairly large, wannabe muscle car (alright, it was a “pimp-mobile”), but I fairly enjoyed cleaning it in and out, savoring the odor of 70s-era leatherette and then taking it out for a spin around the neighborhood. This was no easy task back then, because the aging inline-six needed some gentle “choking” to come to life and the beast had definitive “pawis steering”. But what a great car to learn the finer points of suburban driving.

The other car was the 1998 Honda Civic SiR in screaming “Passion Orange”, a test unit that saw a lot of fast and frenetic miles with the motoring media. Today the SiR pales in comparison to contemporary sport compacts, but during its time, you’ll remember that the SiR was the only everyday “sports sedan” of its time that wasn’t priced in the millions. Washing it after accumulating several hundred kilometers of fast road grime was my way of thanking such a good car. It’s said that some cars establish a bond between car and driver, and it doesn’t get any more personal than with a carwash. (It’s probably the same thing with thoroughbred horses and trainers...). I would have washed the BMW M3 when I had it for a weekend, but it spent more time on the road than parked in front of the house. As a parting gift, I had it washed at the neighborhood outfit before returning it to its rightful owners. You can be sure I kept my eye out for any wayward basketballs.

It never fails. Every time Lester Dizon writes about motorcycles, he gets a ton of conflicting reacations (which is the very purpose of this column, to begin with). Here are some of them from last week…

Kaya ganun kalakas loob ng mga nagmomotor kasi they take it to heart that they always have the right of way. Kaya okay lang mag-counterflow, overtake sa kanan, etc. Plus, because of their small size, they think they also qualify as pedestrians. Using sidewalks and pedestrian crossings. Kasi alam nga nila kung mabangga, or sila makabangga, sila kakampihan ng pulis. Car owners are usually “reactive” and motorcycle riders usually “earn” those reactions.

I myself ride a bike and I hate arrogant car drivers. But I don’t use my “privilege” as a bike rider to get an advantage over bigger vehicles because I know in the end, ako ang “talo”. I may get a few thousand pesos for a broken leg or worse, I may not be able to spend that money myself. I hope other bikers take that into account too and drive responsibly even if they “always have the right of way”. – coiter

I have experienced many dangerous stunts of our ever burgeoning population of motorcycle riders. How many times have I been startled by riders overtaking me on the right side in between sidewalks? Do you bother to always look at the right side mirror to check when you know that only two feet of space is available between your car and the curb? When a motorbike comes zipping by on the right side, this constitutes dangerous driving by the motorcyclist and this is evident too with those who zig and zag while overtaking vehicles in between with speeds of up to 60kph!

I wonder too why so many motorcyclists insist on get ahead of the pack and want to stay in front of all the vehicles on a stop just because there is a space to weave in and get ahead of the others? This is no different from jeepney drivers who cut in front of a vehicle at a stop so it can get ahead of the others to pick up passengers on the other side of the stop! Even if there is a rule that says motorcycles can weave in between vehicles when the traffic is moving slowly is still a dangerous proposition and should not be encouraged.

Being in a hurry should not become a justifiable issue because it always pays to be patient. Keep it up... – papelito

Except for Vietnam, our country probably has the worst disciplined motorcycle drivers in Asia, and maybe in the world! Maybe only one or two out of 10 motorcycle drivers have the discipline and driving manners to use a motorbike. The rest don’t even know the basic road courtesy of using a motorbike. Even the use of the basic safety helmet is ignored by a lot of motorcycle riders.

But kudos to Mr. Dizon for showing that bastard in the Honda City that he doesn’t own the road. In the same way that I hate undisciplined motorbike users, I also hate arrogant motorists who become road war freaks with the smallest dent on their egos. – biboy1219

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