Dylan Rohrer, [email protected]
A warm Easter day in Rock Springs was coming to an end. My girlfriend, Kelci, and I sat together on the couch, fighting off symptoms of a food coma. Our stomachs full of ham and mashed potatoes, we decided to take a drive in our new truck, freshly purchased from the dealership.
Windows down, we cruised along College Drive, taking in the warmth of the sun, music blaring from the speakers. A previous trip in the truck had left it very dirty, and Kelci had taken notice.
“We should take the truck through the car wash,” she suggested. Little did we know that decision would lead to the series of events I am about to describe.
We pulled into the parking lot of the car wash as I reached for my wallet. Pulling up next to the automatic wash bay, I heard the familiar beeps and tones of the computer.
“Did you make sure to order the deluxe wash?” I asked. “Yep, sure did,” Kelci replied.
Ah yes, the deluxe wash. The crème de la crème of the automatic car wash world. So many different soaps, and they all smell so great. One of my favorite parts of being a vehicle owner is getting the privilege to smell that wonderful scent of the pink soap.
Rolling up the windows, we began to pull into the wash bay. The doors closed behind us, and the water jets began to spray. A sneaky smile found its way onto my face as the smell of the pink soap engulfed the truck.
The wash ends, and we began to pull forward into the dryer, near the exit of the wash bay. The illuminated sign guiding us blinks green to pull further forward, but what is this? The automatic door for the exit had yet to open. Anxiously, I peered behind us to see that door too, remained closed.
I glanced over quickly at Kelci and ask her, “Shouldn’t these doors have opened by now?”
“I think so,” she said.
“Well, let’s give it a minute or two and see what happens,” I suggested.
Time ticked by, and still the illuminated sign blinked green. After some time, it eventually turned off, leaving the wash bay eerily silent.
I turned to Kelci, “Okay, something is definitely wrong.”
We both began looking around the wash bay for anything that might be able to help us. To our left, we noticed a sign with a few numbers to call in the case of needing help.
Needless to say, we certainly needed help.
After pulling out my phone, I dialed the first number on the sign. Ring…ring…ring…nothing. A robotic answering machine only added to my anxiety, and the feeling of being trapped.
“No answer at the first number. Should I try the second?” I asked Kelci.
“Maybe it would be better to just get a hold of dispatch?” She suggested.
“Let me just try the second number. If that doesn’t work, dispatch will be our next bet,” I concluded.
The phone rang for what seemed like a century, before finally, a human voice answers on the other line.
“Yes, hi, this may be a bit of a weird call, but my girlfriend and I are currently stuck inside your car wash bay,” I said to the anonymous voice on the other line.
“Oh no, let me see what I can do to help you with that,” the voice replied.
Feelings of relief began to set in for my girlfriend and I, as we anxiously awaited our freedom from the humid car wash bay.
“Did that work?” the voice asked. Peeking at the door, I noticed a mechanical whir, but still the door remained closed.
“I don’t think so, we’re still stuck in here,” I replied.
“One moment, let me see if I can manually get the door,” the voice responded.
Moments went by, feeling like hours. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the door opened. Kelci and I celebrate our freedom as we pulled out of the lot, thanking the anonymous voice on the other end of the line.
Car wash crisis avoided. Just another Easter Sunday in the books.