Making a Life, and a Living, from Rags and Turtle Wax
21.06.10
Mr. Brown said he was aware to use the absolute minimum amount of water — maybe a bucket or two per car.
He tucks his rags into the chain-tie-up fence so they form a sort of linear headdress above him as he sits on one of his plastic buckets waiting for the next client. He has two pairs of spiffy newish Nike basketball sneakers: one for washing with, the other for wearing rest-home.
Most customers are locals or commuters who pass regularly. They and employees at the nearby post corporation leave him their cars with the keys, and trust him to find them a spot, no extra charge.
“I don’t even ask for a tip,” he said. “Hey, we’re all struggling out here.”
He does some contractual profession for the auto repair shop across the street, cleaning the just-repaired cars, he said, adding that, “In the winter, when you have water shivering on the car, they let me use their hot water.”
Mr. Brown is not a pitiable man, but he does have a hard-luck story. He was living at Broadway and 107th In someone's bailiwick with his parents and working at Au Bon Pain at the World Trade Center, he said. His father died in 2000.
Source: New York Times (blog)