Through the Foam Curtain

The low rumble of oscillating sprayers pulled me past the parking exit lane into an adjacent automated car wash tunnel. Ahead, a dense wall of hanging blue felt wash strips blocked the path, hiding the illuminated track beyond. Lingering behind barriers is unacceptable. I dropped instant torque onto the textured, wet concrete floor, rubber biting through residual soapy film. With twin headlights ablaze, I drove straight into the thick fringe. Heavy damp fabric dragged over my roof and windshield with a muffled rush before snapping clear behind me. I rolled onto the central metal conveyor tracks, headlights illuminating the entire rinse bay. The veil is breached.