Lovebugs, new car and all that jazz

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Added: Wed. May 02, 2012 10:08am
Posted in: Living

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I originally published this a few years ago, but given its May again and I recently got a new car, I thought it worth repeating.

It is is something I never experienced when I lived "up North". It’s the invasion of the lovebugs. They are also known as the honeymoon flies, kissing bugs or double-headed bugs; it is the Plecia nearctica. It appears twice year here in Florida - in May and in September. During its short life span, it mates for a few days before its demise, even remaining coupled in flight.

They pose no health risk to humans as far as I know, but they are a royal pain. During those two months it is impossible to drive anywhere and not have the front of your car covered with lovebugs who often suffer from a rather deadly form of coitus interruptus. But this isn't a musing about lovebugs per se, but rather my car.

I suspect I am like many new car owners. When I bought my current car, it was my baby, requiring loving, tender car. It was never going to see the inside of a car wash. I couldn't bear the thought of subjecting it to those long, flopping felt arms or, even worse, those whirling brushes that I was sure would peel that beautiful, shiny paint job.

This car would have my eternal devotion; nothing would be too good for it. Consequently, I would wash it three to four times a week, using the softest sponges and towels that I could find. This interior received the same attention to detail. I would vacuum every nook and cranny, thoroughly dust all parts and clean all glass.

That is exactly what happened once again a few months ago. I cleaned that car both inside and out, sponges, towels, vacuum flying. And when I was through, I would stand back and smile with pride and joy. And a stubborn as those crushed lovebugs were to remove, removed they were.

As I think back I can see that things in my relationship with my car started to change after I owned it a few months. Those car washes three to four times a week became one to two. That vacuuming that went with every car wash now was less frequent. If the carpeting was really dirty, I did it; if not, well the interior, including windshield, side windows and rear windows could wait until next time.

Within a short period of time the car washes only happened if the car was really dirty. when the forecast called for rain, I held off. My rationale was that I was saving water although I knew deep in my heart that wasn't true. The final straw was a few days ago, during lovebug season.

I had to take an eighty mile round trip down Interstate 95. When I got home the front of the car was completely covered with squashed lovebugs. I knew I had to do something but was in no mood to spend a few hours cleaning those bugs off. I considered my relationship with my car carefully and had to admit it was over. Much like telling someone you were seriously dating that you wanted out of the commitment, I ended my emotional attachment to the car.

The car had become simply the family car, a means of transportation, something that had to be cleaned not because I cared so much for it but rather because my pride wouldn't let me drive around in a car that dirty - so I took it to the car wash. It was one of those jiffy washes where you remain in the car as it goes through the wash. As I sat there I watched those floppy felt arms slap at the car, those whirling dervishes of brushes scrubbing the bugs and dirt off. And all I could think is well, thank God it will be clean.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa - I have sinned. I have forsaken my dream car. No man tore the relationship asunder; it was those dammed lovebugs. May they not rest in peace.