No Neutral

I washed my car today.  Correction; I sat in my car while it was washed.  There is a difference.  I went to the car wash that is named after a little green leaping animal.  This is important to know because there was a period of about eight years in my life when I would not, under any circumstances, go to the car wash named after a little green leaping animal.  I was severly embarrassed at the car wash named after a little green leaping animal when I was fourteen.  Like crawl into a hole embarrassed.  Actually, like crawl into a hole and die embarrassed. 

So today, I took pictures while going through the car wash named after a little green leaping animal and thought of my story and couldn't help but chuckle to myself.  It pains me a wee bit to share this story, but at the same time, I love a good laugh and this is a guaranteed laugh maker. 

I was fourteen.  I was newly licensed.  On a side note, you just have to love a state that will license a person to drive a car at the age of fourteen.  I guess it's good I had already had YEARS of driving experience on the farm by that time.  Anyways, back to the nitty gritty.  Fourteen.  New license.  And...new car.  Well, not new, but new to me. 

I was by myself going to the car wash named after a little green leaping animal; I was nervous because I wasn't exactly sure how it all worked.  How do you get the ticket?  Where do you drive?  What if you run into something?  What if the car wash stops?  I wasn't exactly the most observant teenager so apparently I had missed all of these steps the 352 times I had been at the car wash with someone else.  

So there I was in my in blue Cavalier.  Ticket in hand.  Driving up with Little Guy directing me where to drive.  Made it all the way to the point where he put his hand in stop mode.  He opens the door and says while taking my ticket, "Put your car in neutral and keep your hands off the wheel." 

PANIC.  PANIC.  PANIC.  PANIC.    

Neutral?  Neutral?  Huh?  This is what was running through my brain.  Little Guy must have noticed the look of horror on my face because he said again, "Put your car in neutral and keep your hands off the wheel."  It was at this point I decided well, I guess I just have to tell him.  Set him straight. 

So I say...

"Umm...my car doesn't have a neutral."  To which he says...

"Yes it does."  To which I say...

"No it doesn't.  It's an automatic."  To which he says...

"You have a neutral.  Every vehicle has a neutral."  To which I say again because I'm starting think he's not so swift...

"It doesn't have a neutral.  It's an automatic!"  To which he says...

"The BIG N.  It's the BIG N.  Put your shifter next to the BIG N."  To which I say while acting out shifting a manual transmission....

"It's an automatic.  I don't have to shift it.  I don't have a neutral."  To which he doesn't say anything but rather reaches into my car and points at the BIG N on my dashboard.  To which I say...  

"Ok.  Got it."   

Holy moly.  Serious case of wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear.  I quickly shut my door and Little Guy was dumb founded.  After he got over his shock, I could see him in the rear view mirror go and tell his other little guy friends.  By this time, I just wanted out.  But, I had to suffer through the rest of the car wash being the dumb blonde girl who didn't know where neutral on her car was or that she even had a neutral and by the time I got to the end of the car wash named after a little green leaping animal, the dryer boys knew about the neutral.  They pointed.  They laughed.  They pointed some more.  They laughed some more.    

Finally they were done drying and I thought it was all over but, NO.  No, the car wash gods were against me.  Totally against me.  I got hung up on the end of the tracks.  Hung up on the end to the point the dryer boys had to lift the back of my car off the track.  It was enough     to.   do.   me.   in.  

I drove away from there swearing to myself I would never, never go back.  And I didn't.  For eight years.  

When I did finally go back, because I decided it was time to face the dragon, on the direction sign outside of the car wash named after a little green leaping animal next to where it said, "Put your car in neutral" was a picture.  A picture of the BIG N.  I can't help but wonder if I played some role in adding a visual to the directions.  

I will just say this in my defense.  I had been driving stick shifts on the farm and was used to actually having to shift into neutral for a reason.  Never had I ever needed to shift my little blue Cavalier into neutral; therefore in my brain, it just didn't have one.  It was an automatic.  

The embarrassment.  Oh, the embarrassment.  But, it makes a great story to tell around a campfire.  Or around a bar.  Or around a table.  Or around a couch.  You get the point.   

ps.  Today I was the crazy blonde lady taking pictures inside the car wash.  Good thing I don't get embarrassed anymore.  You get a thick skin after years of stories very similar to the one above.