Redacted. --Ed.
Click here for full post or email me for access.
Many a week has passed since the events detailed above. Having shirked my update-related responsibilities long enough, I assembled a recap of the momentous de-egging of my Toyota Corolla. It follows.
Stage One: The BP Squeegee
Nothing brings out the color in your paint job like fluorescent lights and the murky glowing mystery of gas station squeegee fluid. On Monday morning, I drove my egg-streaked Scooter down route 55 to my job at Argonne Labs, a 30 minute drive at something like 70 mph. Upon exiting the vehicle, I saw that the yolk streaked along the top of my car had been whipped into a streamlined froth; there were egg-bubbles on my car, and they were leeeeeaning back. Enjoying the sunshine. Also, bits of eggshell were stuck on the paint, and these made me anxious. Something had to be done.
After work, I drove directly to a gas station. A two-stage attack had been planned: First, I would manually loosen the shell debris and solidified yolk streaks as well as was possible with a courtesy squeegee. Then, I would drive my buddy through the automatic carwash to remove whatever eggstuff that was left.
My coworker/superior, Thomas, assisted me with Stage One. Together we spent approximately ten minutes in the cold night air, slopping blue-green squeegee fluid onto my car under the bright fluorescent lights of the BP. I took a moment to admire the effect: as I mentioned before, nothing has ever brought out that deep bright blue like those glaring lights and mystery fluid did. However, we did little to nothing in the way of clearing the egg debris. Thomas insisted that a slow coaxing motion would loosen anything given time (such was his faith in the Squeegee), but as our fingers began to stiffen with cold, win or lose, it was time to move on.
Stage Two: Workin' at the Carwash (Yeah)
Never will anything, aside from the beatles' song itself, evoke the words "magical" and "mystery" as strongly as the BP automatic carwash did that night. The magic was all beeps and whirring; rocking, thumping, fwap-fwap-fwapping; wonder and joy resurfaced from my childhood memory-cistern and ran rampant as I stared, exclaimed, sat back, in awe of simple automation running in an everyday application. Then I recalled myself, and the mystery stepped in. The mystery was how all this whirring and fwapping and powerblowing was supposed to remove any eggshit from my car. I was intrigued, incredulous, and ultimately disappointed. The carwash did not help; if anything, it smeared yolk around and made my tires look like they had been doused with milk. Alas. But the ride itself was worth the $5.
Anyway, it's late. An account of my triumph over yolk and shell will follow soon, but not tonight. Slumber beckons.
*sorry, I love EM Forster, and also plagiarism.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment