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I guess you could say she’s seen better days
a crack in the windshield is snaking its way through dirty glass
a couple of the tires are low, treading on journeys past
the check engine light is glowing, has been for a while and
she knows where we’re going, she’s on autopilot
I see you’ve been here before, what’s the mileage
whoa, she’s overdue
leave the keys and sign here, we’ll roll her through
I take my backpack and grab some empty clif bar wrappers off the passenger’s seat
take a final glance back as if my eye contact will comfort her through the poking and prodding
and make my way over to the waiting room
which is a few timeworn tables and benches under a red sun bleached awning
several other people are waiting for their refreshed rides
one is yawning
a few are texting or instagramming, who can tell
there’s a unique but familiar smell
a cocktail of greasy engines, greasier sandwiches, and jamba juice
I find an empty bench next to a recliner that looks like it used to be a masseuse
there’s a faint argument about (tainted garbage? no) gained yardage between two guys on an old tv
I should pull out that book I’ve been meaning to read
but I just kill time on my phone
a few handfuls of wasted minutes later I hear my name mispronounced
they want to know
do I want the $50 air filter – nah, listen
the fuel injector needs cleaning every 12k miles
but you said 20k last time so let’s risk it
they drain the used oil
and quench her thirst with golden honey from the new purified bottles
six quarts of elixir to fix her aching joints
viscosity restored
time to pull her forward to the vacuums
those giant orange cylinders of grace
if that grill had lips i’m pretty sure i’d start to see a smile on her face
stale McDonalds fries removed
disburdened of dirt from the floor mats
tiny grains of unwanted souvenirs from the beach liberated from the seat seams
she seems redeemed
she turns a corner, moving tentatively
this next part is only gonna work if she makes it safely in the straight and narrow tracks
she can’t see her wheels and has to place faith in faded harrowed plaques
but with a quick jolt, rusty metal hands grab her axles from below
and she lets go into a baptism of power washers
and giant scrubbers oozing with soap
and hope
potholes forgiven
caked layers of mud from wrong turns on road trips and unexpected rain storms
washed away
she emerges from the watery cave
she beams
the sun glistening off her curves
angels in blue jump suits and gray caps
appear out of nowhere to wipe off any last spots
and polish the rims nice and shiny
they wave a red rag in circles
that means the revitalization is complete
covenants renewed
they hand me the keys
I hand over a few dollars, tithing to the sud gods
and get in
break open the vanillaroma air freshener and hang it from the mirror
and we hit the road again
