What's Next, No Pulling Weeds?

Next to eating apple pie at Mom's on a Sunday afternoon following church, there's nothing more American than washing the Ford in the homestead driveway.
It's a ritual that has few equals, save the occasional fish fry at the Catholic church or the summer 4H fair parade, but next to that, any red-blooded American agrees the smiles derived from making the wheels shine is something to behold.

This past summer, I counted seven honks, three waves, two "hey you missed a spot!" (remember when YOU were in high school?...ah, high school humor), and one "I'm next" while giving the family mini-van her weekly bath.
There's something about bathing a Buick that ties a neighborhood together.
I'm here to tell you today, our neighborhoods; nay, our cities and towns; wait, our nation that's right, our nation, is under attack.
Yet we will persevere!
While spraying off the last round of suds, some talk-show host on the radio started spouting off about how the rinse cycle I was currently applying is killing our nations' waterways. Something about the runoff from my car traveling down my driveway, onto the street, into the storm drains, and ending up in the local river. He was saying how some politicians in the eastern states are outlawing driveway washings altogether...all in the name of clean water.
Remember, these east-coasters are the same politico's who passed a law that punishes jumping off a building with the death penalty.
Can I say more?
First the dirt being washed off the car CAME FROM THE ROAD! I'm simply returning it to its' rightful owner. Second, that day the thermometer hit 98 degrees, the water evaporated nearly before it hit the ground. Third, the water I rinse from my car is at least 23 times cleaner than our beloved stream. I'm the one trying to clean things up!
Hey just call me a great American, I don't mind.
So why now is this tinge of guilt running through my thoughts as I shampoo the Chevy?
"Are those people that honked at me pointing out publicly I'm some type of environmental terrorist?"
"Were the waves at me? Or were they trying to wave down a police officer to arrest me for muddying our streams?"
"Am I, you know, inherently evil?"
The thoughts keep running through my mind.
Which begs the question, what's next? I can't spray Windex on the outside windows? Sweeping the sidewalk punishable by community service? Pulling weeds from the flowers equals six months in the pen?
"So what'cha in for?"
"Yankin' a thistle"
"Oh man, my armed robbery is nothin' compared to you, your bad news," I can hear it now.
I'm a bit nervous. I just mowed my lawn one-half inch lower than the manufacturer recommended three-inch height.
I think I hear the black helicopters coming now.
We've got an election for President around the corner. Here is what I want to hear from the sixty-seven candidates. Laundering the Lincoln would not be a crime. Make that tops in your campaign promises and you've got this radical's vote!
Cleansing the family Cadillac, on the family driveway, using family time should be protected by some type of constitutional amendment. Listen! This is important!
If the minority wins, if logic looses, and polishing the Pontiac is a felony, then pick me up, throw me in the brig, and toss the key. I'm guilty.
I'm keeping my right to a clean car.

Learn more about this author, Timothy Ehlerding.
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