Cape Fear

It gets me every time. Not a frequent visitor to the car-wash at Carron but each time I go I sit in almost panic mode as various mechanical cloths and brushes slap and scrub the vehicle in which I'm sitting. One day, I think, something will go wrong and they'll break through and turn their attention to me.

And then there's the automatic drier. "Do not brake. This will rise automatically" the banner proclaims as it gets closer and closer with no sign of it actually doing so. Just as it's about to crumple the front of the car it jerks upward just enough for a few centimetres of clearance. This taunting continues as it approaches the windscreen. At this point I'm planning my evasion manoeuvres. It stares at me through the window, jerks upward a little more, and stares again for a while before repeating the process. And then it disappears.

The beast may be out of sight, but its sound is now above me. I wait in dread for the sound of scraping as the paintwork is removed from the roof of the car. And then it goes quiet. A green light comes on in front of me. I drive forward, stopping in the forecourt to check for signs of injuries caused by the beast's attentions. A few wet patches, and not just on the car (!), and I take my first breath for what seems like eternity. Next time, I vow, I'll just wash the car myself. But in my heart I know I won't.