Girls will be girls: A destined encounter with a mud puddle

Car maintenance is an important part of daily life. If you lead a busy lifestyle it’s important to have a reliable way to get around town and the best way to do that is to take care of whatever car you find yourself in.

Whether you’re fortunate enough to have a shiny new truck or, if you are like me, a high mileage aging SUV, the best car in the world is the one you have, and it isn’t doing you any good on the side of the road. However, keeping an engine, tires and moving parts in tip-top shape is different from keeping a clean car. While I am a master of the former, I’m not so diligent on the latter. 

With the aforementioned busy schedule, the back seat of my beautiful 2011 Honda Pilot, the pinnacle of automobile engineering (Honda executives, I’m still waiting for you to contact me for sponsorship opportunities,) serves as a means of conveyance, a dining room and sometimes a bed. Where those things occur leads to a buildup to dirt, toys and litter. 

I don’t drive around in a rolling trash can, but to cut a long story short, my car is dirty. 

Recently I decided to do something about it. Armed with a large sponge, a handful of rags, and a bucket of warm soapy water I scrubbed the exterior clean. Then I meticulously vacuumed the carpets and removed any debris before polishing up the leather seats. The car may be old, but it was a sight to behold. 

But it didn’t last too long. 

One afternoon this week, I went to pick up my daughter from school, a quick break from work to shuttle her from the classroom to the dance school for practice. When the teacher presented her, she was, let’s just say, a mess. More muck and mire than little girl, she was drenched to the bone and covered in mud. 

Some recent heavy rains had left puddles on the school yard and Lily, my precious only girl child, had taken a dive. The teacher explained that the students had been warned to stay away from the pools of water, and later scolded them for not heeding the warning of their superior. 

It seems my daughter had no respect for authority that day, as evident by the filthy creature that stood ready to board transport. My clean ride was about to become soiled. 

To make matters worse, she felt it appropriate to sit in every seat, leaving soggy prints, grass clippings and dirt in her wake. Hurray. 

I can’t be mad at her; the girl has a problem, nay, a disease. Ever since she was baby she has loved to splash in puddles. It was innocent enough when we were at home, a quick spray with the water hose and all is well. Even now she is drawn to puddles big and small no matter where we are. Like an addict to their vice, they call out to her until she can’t take it. 

Is there a rehab program for puddle jumpers? Just saying “no” isn’t working. Or I can just clean my car more often.

You can reach Kyle Dominy at k.l.dominy@gmail.com or write to 115 South Jefferson St. Dublin, Ga. 31021.

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