Car detailing: Good news/Bad news
It seemed like a good idea at the time
I love my Subaru Outback. I bought Kyky in 2017, when my last Subaru (Long Tall Sally) was about ready to retire. Kyky is a gorgeous color. Called “brilliant brown pearl,” it has a purplish undertone. Her leather interior is the color of café au lait. And until last week, I had never cleaned inside the car.
With an out-of-town visitor expected soon, and with a few outings planned that would require driving, I thought, “Maybe it would be nice to remember what color the top of the dashboard is.” Then I thought, “I’ve always wondered about car detailing.” So I looked into it. Lo and behold, they’ll come to your house!
The day before Kyky’s appointment, I spent nearly an hour preparing for the internal cleaning by emptying her of anything and everything I’d stored, dumped, or packed into her—not a small task, but they needed a cleared workspace.
On the day the detailers were to come, rain was predicted, so they asked if they could take Kyky to their (nearby) garage and do the work there. Seemed reasonable.
Two hours or so later, they returned with KyKy, all clean and shiny. She was a beautiful sight!
It wasn’t raining at the time they returned the car, so Luis, who was proud of his team’s work, opened all the doors to show me. Then he walked to the back and pressed the fob button to open the rear hatch. I heard the familiar beep. Nothing happened. Luis tried again. Nothing.
He pressed the button on the rear gate itself that had always responded obediently to my touch. Beeps. Then nothing. I tried it: Beeps, then nothing.
I went to the panel of buttons near the steering wheel and pressed the hatch release. Beeps. Nothing else.
Luis seemed embarrassed. He said, “Let me call my boss.” A few minutes later, he said, “She used Google. We press the release button on the back and hold it for three sets of beeps. That should reset it.” He did that, and the hatch lifted. But only about a foot.
“Has it ever done this before?” he asked.
It was starting to rain again. I said, “I’ll look this one up.” I thanked Luis and sent him on his way.
The next day I checked the manual section on the rear hatch. Evidently the car had defaulted to some memory setting I had never used. (Why any default setting would lift the hatch only a foot, I can’t guess.) The process for changing this setting, as described in the manual, seemed beyond convoluted. So I put that off again and headed out for an appointment.
It was a few minutes before I realized that the center headrest in the back seat had been raised to its full height (no doubt to clean under and around it), and now it was all I could see in my rear view mirror. I sighed. “I have other mirrors. I’ll reset it when I get where I’m going.”
Most people will be familiar with the various bells, whistles, and buttons that come with cars manufactured after a certain date. Kyky is no exception. And all of those buttons, which I had set the way I wanted them, had been reset. So as I drove, Kyky beeped at me unnecessarily, with messages scrolling across the center dashboard display so fast I couldn’t read them.
Note to car manufacturers: In the event of imminent danger, it’s not a good idea for the driver to take their eyes off the road and struggle to read messages in small, green letters sliding quickly across the dashboard display.
I’m sure the messing-up of these buttons had happened inadvertently as Luis and his team were polishing and wiping. That didn’t make my process of setting them back the way I wanted any easier. I sat in the parking lot after my appointment, poking at buttons, testing what they did, and resetting them. I missed one I had to reset later.
Fortunately lowering the rear seat head rest wasn’t difficult. Even so, I stood with hands on hips and glared at the headrest. “Never again,” I mumbled. “No more detailing.”
It was at that point that I noticed that both the driver and front passenger headrests were set to their maximum height, and that they’d been tilted forward awkwardly. It took me another search in the manual to figure out how to reset them.
Once home, manual in hand, I managed to reset the height of the rear hatch so that it opened all the way. Whew. I closed it, and then realized I’d meant to reload it with some of the stuff I’d taken out before the cleaning. I pressed the button.
Nothing. Didn’t even beep!
“Kyky!” I shouted. “What have they done to you?!?”
I tried the hatch release button near the steering wheel; no beeps. I went to my computer and searched for answers. All the advice said to hold the rear button for a series of beeps, as Luis had done.
“It’s not beeping!” I shouted at my computer.
The only thing I hadn’t tried was using the button on my key fob. Hallelujah! It opened, and it opened all the way. I closed it and tested it with the button. Hallelujah! Whew. (However, I have no idea why that one method worked when the others had not. Was this problem really resolved?)
“Never again,” I told Kyky. “No more detailing.”
The next day I had to drive someplace. It was hot. I used the A/C. But on the way back, after parking in the sun, I wanted to drive for a minute with the windows open.
The passenger side window would not open.
I nearly cried.
After more research, none of which applied because they assumed the passenger window control would lower that window (in Kyky it would not), I finally found one Youtube vid that said I should check the driver side “window lock” button that disables the other windows.
Eureka! (“Hallelujah” wasn’t getting me anywhere.)
Summary (Note: does not include loss of stomach lining, loss of hair, or tooth-grinding damage)
I think, hope, pray that my car is now working as she had been before Luis and his team had their way with her. She’s clean. She’s beautiful. And I’m still in love with her.
Kyky will never again get detailed. Nor will my next Subaru. Or the one after that.
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I’m an inveterate observer of human nature, writing novels about all kinds of people, some of whom happen to be gay or transgender or bisexual or intersex—people whose destinies are not determined solely by their sexual orientation or gender identity. Check out my work on my website.
My fifth Outback is a 2018 (the first one was a 1992)
I went through pretty much all of the things you described here, but not all at once 😄
1. You made me laugh out loud. 2. Your Outback is a delectable color. 3. What is it about Outbacks that win our loyal affection? Gosh. I love mine, too. Her name is Red.