It’s been an eventful day here in Tiny Town. We had our first bath.
Just like any new baby you bring home, the first bath is fraught with questions and doubts. Will I hurt the baby? Is the soap too harsh? Is the water too hot? Too cold? Will I get it in the baby’s eyes (windows, vents)?
I had all these doubts and more. I don’t want to hurt The Tiny. But it needs to be cleaned and waxed and covered and protected in order to maintain its current beauty. The previous owners did all these things, and I must continue the tradition of care.
But what to use? A member of a T@B FB group posted that she uses Meguiar’s Wash and Wax. I queried her to make sure she had the exact same year of T@B as me: 2007.
Still, it took me a while to decide that it was the probably the right stuff. I couldn’t find it at Auto Zone, though the clerk didn’t seem to think the brand was important. Excuse me? This is The Tiny we’re talking about here.
Finally, when I was doing my “order online and pick it up at Walmart” shopping, I saw that I could get Meguiar’s Ultimate Wash and Wax. That’s even better! It’s ultimate! When the young man was loading up my eggplant and spinach and dog bones and Kerrygold butter, all I cared about was that bottle of magic. Yes!
The bath was overdue. I had brought The Tiny back from my second practice campout 9 days ago, but wanted to get it washed and waxed before I put on the cover. The Tiny actually has a pretty sweet home, tucked between my house and the neighbor’s house. Of course, a covered garage would be ideal, and I considered moving so The Tiny would have a better situation. But for now, this is a safe and protected space, and I am grateful.
I read the directions, gathered my cloths and towels and microfiber stuff and bucket, and headed outside. I had put warm water in the bucket along with the Meguiar’s. Doesn’t it seem like warm water would be better for a baby like The Tiny?
As I applied the creamy lusciousness of the wash and wax, I saw grime and dirt leave the building. I also noticed a few little “deals,” a little dent or scratch here or there, barely noticeable. It’s like when you bring any baby home. You notice their peculiarities, their quirks, how this or that toe or finger is different, or how they respond or don’t respond to carrots or dogs or fire trucks. I don’t care what happened to The Tiny before it came to me. That was a previous lifetime. It is what it is. I love it fully, and we’ll just deal with whatever karma it brought along.
I wiped down its smooth baby skin with a fresh, clean microfiber cloth. How could something be so gorgeous? So lovable? I used to laugh (secretly) at a former boyfriend who was in a Corvette club, who was the treasurer of the club. How infantile that seemed. Now I am that person. And I like it.
Once The Tiny was taken care of, I turned my attention to the Durango. Sad story that. In the two years I’ve owned the Durango, it’s gone from being “My New Car!” or “the Dodge” or “the Durango” to now being referred to as “the tow vehicle.” Or even more demeaning: “the TV.”
Though I love and cherish it, and bought it with a tow package in case I was ever lucky enough to get a Tiny to love, I have never waxed the Durango. Rather, when I drive through the $5 car wash and the virtual lady asks if I want wax for an extra $3, I always say no. No wax for you, Durango! But today I was feeling kindlier, perhaps because of all those endorphins flowing through me, generated by my new baby. Most new mothers glow with those endorphins, and I am no different.
Perhaps having The Tiny in my life will make me a nicer, more loving and caring and compassionate person. More tender. That’s what babies do to us. That’s my little Tiny. Goochie, goochie goo.