I won’t bore you with the details, since I’ve shared the story before, but I hate car washes. Or the act of actually taking your vehicle through one. It’s not like I’m against shiny cars and soap or anything. Unfortunately, running over a car wash employee’s foot as a teen driver has left me with a phobia of some sort.
They literally freak me out, rapid breathing and all. I get sweaty just THINKING about it.
I know, it’s weird. As an adult, I’m trying to get over it and be a big girl. So, twice in the past year I have forced myself to drive through the thing, and I will be the first to admit, the Curious George and Elmo characters clearly meant for kids have helped ease my worries. I’ve managed to reach the creative stoplight at the end without curling up in the fetal position after putting my gear in neutral, so that’s a plus, right?
Baby steps, people. (More like baby ELEPHANT steps, but you have to start somewhere.)
Yesterday, I decided to step outside of my comfort zone and found myself in line at the car wash. (My husband’s comment about my SUV looking like a sandbox on wheels the previous night MIGHT have influenced that decision a bit, but that’s not important.) Bella, our bulldog puppy, was sitting on my son’s lap next to me, and the look on her face when the water and soap hit our windshield was enough to tell me she would rather have her nails trimmed than be along for this ride. I captured her face on my phone and couldn’t help but understand her fear.
She gets me.
Some people take big risks with adventurous activities like zip-lining or skydiving. I take my bucket of dirt through the car wash.
