Car Wash

A super-short story about a car, a man, his son, the future, and the past. Inspired by all the lessons I've learned from my father.

‘It’s a beautiful day outside,’ I think to myself, as I head out to the driveway. It’s Sunday, which means it’s time to wash the car. I know it’s an odd routine in this day and age… a holdover of older days I guess. The days before The Boon.

Traditional cars are rare these days – not unheard of, but rare. With the advent of the skyrails and autocars, there just isn’t much demand for these pre-Boon vehicles. But some people have kept them, more out of nostalgia than anything else – and I’m one of those people.

And every Sunday, I wash my car by hand.

As I’m washing, my son comes outside, and stands there watching for a few minutes. I turn off the hose, and look over to him.

“Dad,” he begins, “why do you wash your car all the time?”

I ponder how to answer. I could tell him about the times before The Boon, when cars like this were common-place. About how keeping it clean was a matter of looking good. But I don’t think that’s what he’s really asking; kids never seem to want to hear about those days.

“I mean,” he continues, “there are automatic washers for things like this; so why do you always do it?”

I smile as I hold the hose to my side. “Son, some things are just worth doing yourself.”

He nods, and smiles at me with a wisdom beyond his years, yet before his time. “Can I help?”

“Grab a sponge,” I say, smiling.

Word Count: 255