All the talk around town is concerning the latest dry spell.

“Lawd, we sure do need some rain.”

“Dry as a bone, I tell y’.”

“My tomatoes are the size o’ marbles.”

“Shoot. I spit on the ground the other day and a squash vine slithered ‘bout two feet just to reach the moisture.”

“Granny McCurdy used to say that dry spells happen when there’s a low attendance at churches on Sunday. Pews must be empty lately.”

“Yeah, we sure do need the rain.”

Well, guess what? We got a couple sprinkles the other day and you can send all your letters of thanks to Langden Mason, Scottsville VA 24590. How did I carry out such a miracle? I simply washed my car. That’s right. The other evening my car looked like it had just driven out of the showroom. No longer was it that lovely shade of pollen yellow or road dust brown. It was a nice bright white.

I rarely wash my car. I don’t see the point. I’m way too old to cruise around town in a souped up Pinto in hopes of impressing some disco dancin’ babe. I’m more interested in keeping the family vehicle well-maintained on the inside so we can get from Point A to Point B.

Of course, there are some guys out there who still wash their cars every weekend. And if you’re the wife of one of these men, you might want to investigate as to why a middle-aged husband might want to keep his vehicle so spotless. Unless he’s a country singer who needs a clean truck to drive to the Academy of Country Music Awards, there’s really no other need for a wife to be able to see her reflection in her husband’s truck.

I’m not sure what prompted me to wash my car. Maybe it was our need for rain. On average, Americans wash their vehicle for three major events.

The first one comes around every 10 years. The class reunion. People like to show up at their class reunion in a vehicle that is nicer than the one they used to drive to the high school parking lot. That really isn’t a difficult feat. Back when I was in high school, everybody was driving their older brother’s hand-me-down Gremlins, Dodge Darts, Colts and Mavericks, or cars they pieced together from parts picked up at the junk yard. Anything would be an upgrade from these animals.

But still, we wash our vehicles, avoid dusty roads and show up in fine driving machines.

“Look who just walked in,” a fellow graduate says at the reunion. “Hard to believe he was voted ‘Best Looking.’ He’s now bald, a hundred pounds over weight, and looks like he stole his sports coat from a sleeping wino.”

“Yeah,” another graduate adds. “He looks like hell, but did you see the ‘Benz he drove up in? He must have done something right.”

The second event for which we wash our vehicle is a wedding. Unless the bride and groom are driving off in it, why wash it? Are we so arrogant as to think that all eyes will be on us instead of the bride?
I doubt any of us have attended a wedding where the organist abruptly stopped playing “Oh, Promise Me” and the best man walked to the front of the church and announced: “Excuse me, would the owner of the filthy ’82 Buick Station Wagon in the church parking lot please remove his or her vehicle from the vicinity. The bride has stated the car’s hideous appearance is ruining her special day. Thank you.”

The final situation that usually prompts a car washing is a funeral. Perhaps it’s part of the grieving process. Who knows? Is washing our car before a funeral is somehow honoring the dead? I’m confused. When did a funeral procession become the Dogwood Parade? It’s not as though we are going to be moving slowly down the roadway with our headlights on and a beauty queen in white gloves sitting on the hood of our car. But still, we wash and wax and buff our autos until they look like they just rolled out of the showroom.

“Goodness,” a female mourner says before the casket of her 103-year-old grandmother. “Who on earth decided to bury Granny in that hideous yellow thing? Looks like a thrift shop prom dress. And she never wore lipstick that red. Cheap, I tell y’. She looks cheap. Poor ol’ Granny is gonna meet her Maker lookin’ like a dime store floozy.”

“You’re right about that,” another female mourner adds. “But more importantly, did you see what a nice vehicle Cousin Clyde drove up to the funeral home in? A Crown Victoria. It’s not new, but it sure looks like it. Must’ve washed it this mornin’.”

Do you really think you’re going to hear that conversation anytime soon? I doubt it.

Whether or not you have a class reunion to go to or a funeral or a wedding to attend, all the talk in town is concerning the latest drought. Go ahead. There’s no time like the present. Let’s all wash our vehicles. We sure could use the rain.