Car Show

I've got a car show to go to. I'm entering my car in it. It is a part of the car club I belong to.

Oh, but I am so slack. The last one I went to last year, I didn't even clean my car and it looked kind of shabby, as you could well imagine. Did I feel embarrassed? Not as such, I don't get embarrassed by such things, I really don't care enough. But, I did note the um, perhaps disappointment, in myself, I guess. I could have done better, as a purely intellectual thought.  

I am so lazy. How did I get that gene, when, in fact, I come from a family of, I guess what you would call, high achievers? I'm the black sheep, I guess.

I really find it hard to give a fuck, about most things, I'd say. It is an equal blessing and curse. You know, there were occasions I should have cared more, oh yes there were, but also I've never been one to stressed out about stuff. Good and bad.

Things in life are really so less important than most people will make them out to be, for the most part, don't you agree?

Anyway, the annual car show is on again, so yesterday, I pulled the car cover off my beloved GTI, and I dug the old tins of car polish out from under the kitchen sink. One of them was past credible use, and I tossed it, but the other was good to go. I briefly wondered what the use by date would be on it, you know, like pulling a bottle of pills from the medicine cupboard that says good before 2017, or the tartare sauce from the back of the fridge that says best before 2021.

And I started to polish.

Pretty quickly, I had to reluctantly agree that the car needed a wash first, so I stopped polishing and did that first. 

Sam was standing by the back door with his new white apple goggles on looking like a personal robot and I was able to yell out to him, "Can you turn the tap on?"

"Can you turn the tap off?"

"Can you turn the tap back on again?"

Repeatedly, which helped speed up the washing process.

You’d think that might have been annoying, but it didn’t seem to annoy him, he was too busy lost in looking like something from Doctor Who in the garden. Note to self, get one of those pistol grip hose nozzles that one can switch on and off.

Then we headed out for lunch while the car dried.

I got to polishing it with the very convincing red cream, the colour of the Australian deserts, as soon as I got back, and really quickly my right arm began to ache and I was left wondering what the hell was I doing this for anyway?

Jesus fuck me Christ this is hard work. And I cursed not going to Bunnings to get an electric polisher before I started. (Not that I actually thought of that before this point)

Anyway, it was a gorgeous afternoon, the sun shone, the sky was one unending blue title overhead. I listened to little retro Gnarls Barkley as the muscles in my right arm screamed at me to stop this ridiculous nonsense.

I kept going thanking my good sense to buy a small car rather than a large one over which to fan-girl.

And before long I was done. And the car looked good, even if I couldn't, exactly, tell with it now in the shadows, but I am pretty sure it did. It felt lovely and smooth as I ran my fingers over it.

Of course, I was going to clean the inside as well, I had all the best intensions when I stared, cleaned inside and out, but when I was done with the outside, I truthfully couldn't give enough of a fuck to start on the inside. Nobody will be looking inside it anyway, it is not that kind of car show. It is just a presentation of members cars, there is no judgement involved, so what the hell.