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©2017 by Cody Rickett

Mr. Clean

February 13, 2018

At the Mister Car Wash, I sat on a metallic mesh bench and watched my Ford Fusion get scrubbed inside and out. I thought to myself: I should be doing this dirty work, instead of paying other people. Where's my motivation for self-care and self-maintenance? If I was a man's man, I'd also know more about the car engine and other manly things. Damn my mediocrity!

 

 

Earlier in the day, I had watched two carpenters install a wooden railing on my grandfather's back porch. One of the carpenters said to Pop:

"Hey, if you ever want to get rid of that 1946 Ford sitting in your garage, let me know."

Well, it's going to my grandson," he said, pointing to me. "But he's never even driven it."

 

That was true. The old Ford is an antique with manual transmission, and I have yet to learn how to drive stick shift. But I'm certain I could learn, because I have plenty of dexterity and hand-eye coordination, so it's not due to a lack of capability that I have yet to get behind the wheel of that vintage, cherry red convertible—with its whitewall tires, and a Marilyn Monroe suicide knob that compensates for the lack of power steering.

 

Back on the bench at the car wash, I found myself staring into the distance, gazing at trees surrounded by concrete pavement and buildings. I contemplated the juxtaposition between pure nature and human-made structures. There was the tree: growing out of the ground, perfect in its gnarly symmetry, presumably designed by the hand of God—a hand I have been seeking to shake for quite some time now. On a daily basis, I reach out into the darkness of consciousness...groping for those divine fingers...opening my palms with surrendered receptivity in the hopes that all levels of flesh (physical, energetic, astral, causal, sub-causal, super-subtle, ultra-secret, majorly refined, etc.) might intertwine and merge to yield a new plateau of Being and Doing. It's that sublime continuum of experience I crave, if you know what I mean.

 

Returning my wandering focus to the thrifty men cleaning my vehicle, I couldn't help but think of how animals prune and manicure each other. Cats lick each other's fur; parrots peck at their respective feathers; dogs sniff their fellow canine's anus. The circle of life.

 

I tipped the gentlemen who had done a top-notch job on my ride and drove away feeling better about life. It feels good to be clean. Never mind the fossil fuels burning underneath the hood and spewing out carbon emissions into the atmosphere. I'm sitting on leather, man! Let's indulge in this twisted, co-dependent luxury while we still can!

 

Everywhere I turn, I see perfection. Perfection in the dysfunction of our bodies, perfection in the disease of the perverted mind, perfection in the lopsided evolution of humanity.

 

Thank you for reading. Be still, and flow (if you're in the mood for it).

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