"If anyone needs a carwash, you do"
On the way to the local market, driving the car, I had to stop at a stoplight. It was a busy intersection, the busiest in town. A bunch of folks had signs, something about getting a carwash.
My mind flashed back to an incident a couple of years ago, in a parking lot a stone's throw away from this intersection. My car is old. 25 years old. It looks 25 years old, with rust. Even when it was new, it had faulty paint. Yes, we bought it new. Honestly, I could care less what it looks like now. If I cared what it looked like, I'd need more money to buy a new car. So, I don't care, it is the less expensive option. Anyway, a guy with his kid pointed to me as I was looking for a parking spot, and laughed, and said some loud wisecrack about the poor state of the car. My smile disappeared, and I steeled my jaw. The guy stopped laughing and pointing, and looked away. After I had parked, I looked around, the the joker was nowhere to be found. Just another average citizen, teaching his child the American way. But back to today's story.
As the light turned, I stayed in the flow of traffic, got to the market, went in, purchased what I needed, and left. On the drive home, I had to stop at this same intersection, but on the opposite side. A bunch of teenagers were holding signs right outside my right window, which was rolled down. Both windows were rolled down. They yelled at me, "Hey, if anyone needs a carwash, you do."
I sort of glanced in their direction, peeled my right hand off the stick shift, and waved, possibly with the faintest of smiles. I was careful not to look in their direction for any length of time, I need every dollar I have for food. Several others piped up, clearly they were excited, feeling sure I'd get a carwash. "Your car is filthy! Get a carwash! We take donations!" The rabble continued.
This was about as much American love as I could take today. I took the same hand that moments ago had offered them a moment of passing greeting, and placed it on the window button, and rolled up the window on their side of the car. I could still hear them though, but their chants had changed, "Man, that was cold." I tried not to listen, but noted the irony.
What is it in the American psyche that feels it is okay to insult the poorer among us? There were plenty of other cars they could have focused on. Brand new cars, clearly folks who don't have money problems. My car is rusty. No amount of washing will make it look any better. It has seen better days. So have I. But me and my car were the one they focused on at that moment.
I'd offer them a bit of advice, belated as it may be. When you're asking for someone for money, ask the folks that look like they have money. The people driving the new cars. The folks with suits and ties, and carefully manicured passengers. Leave the rest of us alone.
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