“There comes a time when you have to stop revving the engine and shoe it into gear.”

- David Mahoney

Benjamin Franklin is often cited as saying that trying to solve problems and expecting different results while using the exact same methods is the true mark of insanity.

Well, if old Benny's right, then I'm finished. Just stick a fork in me, because I'm done. You see, there comes a time in everyone's life when he or she just has to stop and realize that no matter the efforts they may make, there are some situations that will never be resolved.

That realization was shown to me this week in a rather unpleasant form. Call it karma, coincidence or just plain natural selection, evidently the universe was sending me a sign.

The moment played out like this:

It was Wednesday night, around seven in the evening. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a gentle breeze whisking through the trees. I was sitting on my balcony and looked over at the ol' Escort and thought the girl could use a little automotive makeover. So with my blue pail in hand and an assortment of rags, brushes and soap I prepared to try and remove a few months build-up of dirt, salt and grime.

It all started out well and good. I took the clothes and food wrappers out of the back seat then threw the floor mats onto the yard. I vacuumed the upholstery and was surprised to find a fistful of quarters wedged between the cushions. Inspired by the freshness of the seats I went in the house and grabbed a bottle of Windex and started spraying the windows.

Perhaps it was the ammonia fumes, but what started out as a simple cleanup was rapidly transforming itself into a whirlwind of cleanliness. I was now a hyperactive washing machine going from the dash to the back seat. There was nothing that wouldn't eventually be wiped, dusted or polished. That's when the turning point came: polishing.

With the coins I had found, I drove to the car wash and gave my ride a cold shower. As soon as I got home I began the process of waxing. Now I'm not speaking of a typical Brazilian wax job here, I'm talking a full on Mr. Miyagi. As I opened the bottle, I could faintly hear his immortal words “Wax on, right hand. Wax off, left hand.” All I needed was the headband and kid named Johnny waiting to beat me up and I'd be transported back to 1984. (I'm guessing those ammonia fumes really had an effect).

My arms were burning by the time I finally leaned against the porch to stare at my hard work. Then it happened; From out of the sky a bird was making it's decent.

Some would say that it was just a dropping but I knew better. This was premeditated and surprisingly accurate as it hit dead center on the hood. All that time wasted by a bird that just couldn't hold it a moment longer.

If I have leaned anything it's that the next time I think the car is getting a bit dirty I'll just wait till it rains.

Auburn native Bradley Molloy's column appears here, each Sunday in The Citizen. He can be reached at lovonian@hotmail.com