Not Worth My Salt

Ice forms when the­ temperature of water reaches 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). When you add salt, that temperature drops: A 10-percent salt solution freezes at 20 F (-6 C), and a 20-percent solution freezes at 2 F (-16 C). On a roadway, this means that if you sprinkle salt on the ice, you can melt it. The salt dissolves into the liquid water in the ice and lowers its freezing point.

Dear Steven;

     It is winter in Chicago. We have had snowstorms, ice-storms, freezing rain and sleet in the past week or so. With each precipitation, the city is obliged to salt the roads in mass quantities. When the snow melts, we have our very own Dead Sea on 75th Street. Consequently, my normally Barcelona-red Toyota Camry became a splotchy classic Chicago Middle-of-Winter-Dirty-Salt white. It was time for a car-wash.

     I pulled into one of those car-wash places in a gas station. I slid my credit card into the credit card slot. Lights flashed and (I swear) Orson Welles spoke from the speaker next to the credit card slot and apologetically informed me that the credit card slot was not working, and suggested using cash instead. I should have recognized this as a bad sign.

     I pulled out $9 for the Deluxe Works Wash with the Undercarriage shower. After I fed $7 into the cash slot, lights flashed again and Orson congratulated me for choosing the Express wash, and would I like to add more cash for a different wash?

     Yes I would, Orson, I want the Deluxe $9 wash, not the Express! I fed 2 more dollars into the slot... and nothing happened!

     The lying, cheating Orson Welles impersonating machine ate my first $7 and was now waiting for more money. Since I was in a relatively amiable mood with time to burn (Dad was out with his office-mates) I fed my last $5 into the lying, cheating Orson Welles impersonating machine for the less-desired Express wash.

     The robotic arm came around and sprayed my car with tri-colored soapy foam on one side, whirred around the corner and sprayed the other side. We soaked comfortably for a few moments while I listened to some old-fashioned love song on the radio. Then the arm came around with the Armor All spiked rinsing spray cycle. I watched the salt cleansed away on the one side, as the robotic arm whirred around the corner. And it stopped.

     I drove up to the cashier's kiosk in my dripping half-washed, half-foamed car. I calmly explained to the cashier that his lying, cheating machine stole $14 from me and what was he going to do about it? He offered to give me a "free" $9-wash.

"No, no, no, you don't understand. I already paid $14 for this mess."

"Okay, okay. I give you free wash AND refund."

     Somewhat placated, I drove back into the lying, cheating machine. My car is covered again with tri-colored soapy foam. And I waited for the déjà vu rinse cycle.

     And I waited. And waited.

      After interminable moments, I thought to start my wipers so that I could see. Mr. Cashier was waving me to drive out. Apparently, the car wash was not working.

No shit, Sherlock!

     So now, I have a salty AND tri-colored foamed car. It looks like it's been covered with frozen poop from a flock of diarrhea-infected sea-gulls.

     Ahh... the joys of living in Chicago.

     Put on an extra sweater, my son. Keep warm.

Love,
Mom