Drive Time
Cars start new year clean
By Mike Leidemann
Advertiser Transportation Writer
A lot of people like to start the new year with a clean slate. Others like a clean car.
Deborah Booker • The Honolulu Advertiser
Those who prefer both were lined up yesterday morning outside the McKinley Car Wash on Kapi'olani Boulevard.
Lyle Noa of Kane'ohe thanks Francis Taro, a McKinley Car Wash employee for wiping down his car. Noa tries to get his car washed at least twice a month.
There were cars of every make and model. New red BMWs. Old Honda Accords with the familiar faded blue paint. Lots of SUVs. The ugliest Mercedes Benz you've ever seen, apparently from when the German engineers were trying to capture the look of a Plymouth Duster.
A 1990 Honda Civic station wagon with 113,000 miles on it, a load of sand in the back and Christmas berry droppings all over the hood. A few average-looking Toyotas. There was even a humongous Ford Expedition so glistening white that it looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line. Never mind; it also needed to be washed and waxed anew for New Year's Eve.
At the car wash, each car is special. Every guy (and yes, it's a guy thing) knows his car will run better if it's clean. Every guy suspects the new year will be better if he starts it off with an act of Armor All.
At the McKinley Car Wash all cars and owners are treated equally — like royalty. For just a few moments there's a palace full of help waiting to cater to your every need, or at least blacken your tires.
(Whatever happened to whitewalls, anyway?)
On a given visit, no less than a dozen workers check your oil, top off your tires, fill up your tank, vacuum, wash, hot-wax and hand-dry your car. All while you sip a soda and admire the owner's orchid collection.
On a normal visit, the coordination is like an assembly line. On New Year's Eve it was like a finely choreographed June Taylor dance show. Just past the vacuum station, a bandanna-topped guy named Mannix was conducting the show, merging four lines of gassed-up vehicles into a queue leading into the magical tunnel, from which cars emerge purged of urban grime and the accumulated assorted abuse we heap on them in our daily travels.
Outside the tunnel, while dozens of drying hands wiped away the final spots, owners waited, making new acquaintances (instead of forgetting auld ones).
"Is that a '72 Wagoneer?" one guy asked another, with more than a hint of male envy in his voice, checking out the exterior wood grain package that was optional that year.
"Restored her myself," came the answer. "Gets 13 miles per gallon, and I drive her every day."
Just then the Wagoneer owner got that familiar switch of a wet rag flying in the air, the one that signals your car is ready once again for the road.
"Happy New Year," he said.
No one asked any questions about the 1990 Honda Civic station wagon that was behind him. It still had 113,000 miles on it, but no longer had a load of Kailua sand or Christmas berry droppings all over the hood.
For a few sparkling, washed and waxed and vacuumed minutes, all was right in the world on the eve of the new year.
Mike Leidemann writes about transportation issues. Reach him at 525-5460, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802 or e-mail mleidemann@honoluluadver tiser.com.
