Oh, Rose Royce, what a damn good song! I’ve heard it over the years here and there and it always just brings a smile to my face. I just saw the movie maybe last year, and it was a fascinating time capsule of the era even though I for the life of me can’t remember pretty much anything about it now except for Richard Pryor.
And as I’m sitting here writing, I’m suddenly flooded (is that a pun?) with memories of all the different car washes I’ve known. It’s not something one would usually think about, but here we are, Rose Royce.
As a kid, we had a car wash in my hometown. I’m not sure if it’s still working but I think it’s still there, a big red and white metal shed that fit one car at a time. I was always fascinated with that car wash gun; feed some quarters and soap and water would come out; feed some more quarters and you could rinse it off.
Damn, and now I’m remembering that I took my car to the car wash in Slayton before my big first date with the girl who would be my girlfriend for the first part of my senior year of high school. I was nervous as hell. I went to the car wash and then to the greenhouse to pick up flowers. And I’m not sure why I washed the car since she lived on a gravel road (as did I) so the car was immediately dusty and dirty.
And in college I worked at a gas station that also had a car wash and in the winter we had to shut it down when the temperature hit 33 or something. It always caused problems, so we were always really ecstatic when the temp dipped.
And after moving to Austin, I discovered the magic of car detailing. Which we do once a year after traveling to New Orleans with a car full of stinky dogs.
I had no idea I had so many memories of car washes swishing around up in my noggin, Rose Royce. Thanks for reminding me and providing me with an awesome soundtrack to remember by.