At The Car Wash

I've been a bit ill at ease as of late. It seems that after six years of university I haven't decided what to do with myself. My quick fix for this is to wander about as if I were a vagrant. I either use my bicycle or my skateboard, but today I was lucky enough to have borrowed my (step)father's car.

I was so excited to cruise around in his gas guzzling piece of shit. (10 mpg, can you believe that?) I didn't have to peddle around, I didn't have to skoot about; all I had to do was fork over enough cash to fill up half a tank and I was set.

Twenty doll hairs later, I was in dick to dick traffic and not even less than a mile away from my apartment. I didn't feel elated or relieved, instead it seemed as though all of the misery and all of the grief which makes up just a 1/16 of my day, came to helm of the wheel.

So, I'm in traffic, I'm wildly emotional, and I'm in this sort daze, while everyone around me is in this sort of rush to get somewhere. My first instinct was to take my step father's car to my aunt's house, but she lived an hour away so there was no way I was going to make there at a reasonable time, so I decided to take it for a car wash.

BAD IDEA! This guy's car looks like he drove through Ground Zero with the goddamn windows down. There was ash everywhere. There had been a superficial layer of ash that had covered and concealed another layer of ash, which had also served as the upper mantle to an infinitesimal layer of crumbs and broken chips.

In addition to the ash there had also been newspapers dated from the beginning of the year and chocolate stains all over the seats.

I sure as hell wasn't going to clean everything, so when I pulled into the car wash I headed straight for the vacuums, but before I could even put the car in park, there was this dude who was staring at me reaaallll hard, like he's never seen another dude in busted ass Dodge Durango pull in before.

Whatever, fuck that guy. He was gone before I got into scraping around for quarters in the cupholders.
Just to vacuum that piece of shit took me over forty five minutes and it still looks like Mt. Saint Helens blew a load inside of it. Whatever, at least I got out of my house for an hour.