Back when I drove ugly trucks, I didn’t much care how dirty they were. In fact, the dirtier it got, the more satisfied I was. A friend once put a bumper sticker on my old F-250 that said something to the effect that my truck was undergoing a scientific study on the effects of dirt, but nobody could ever read it, because it was always covered with a layer of grime.
When people told me I needed to wash it, I would tell them I was afraid to, because I thought the only thing holding it together was the protective layer of mud. And with that truck, there might have been more than a little bit of truth to that.
My current truck is no beauty, but it’s newer, and it’s moderately nice. Every once in a while, I’ve taken it to get it washed. And up until the last time I washed it, when it was clean, it looked brand-new.
I’ve decided I’m never going to go to an automatic car wash again. At least, not the one I went to last time in Cheyenne. When I pulled in, the attendant told me I needed to sweep the wood chips out of the bed of my truck, so they wouldn’t mess up the automatic wash’s mechanism. There was less than a gallon’s worth of chips, and while I thought it was a bit unnecessary, I complied. The trouble came when I went to go back into the car wash.
I wanted to back out to the street and come in fresh, but the attendant insisted on guiding me through a narrow opening. Like an idiot, I allowed him to guide me. He ended up guiding me right into a post on the passenger side. Now my truck has a giant dent in front of the right rear wheel.
It just goes to show you, washing your vehicle is bad for it. Just keep it dirty.
