There once was a wash on Old Highway Nine,
That promised your car would come out shiny and fine.
But the moment you paid and your wheels rolled inside,
You realized this wash had… absolutely died.

The sprayers just hissed like a grumpy old cat,
The brushes hung limp like, “Yeah, I’m not touching that.”
The soap didn’t bubble; the wax didn’t gleam.
It misted one droplet, then ran out of steam.

The dryer? It wheezed like a man needing to sneeze,
Then coughed once and quit, like, “I’m taking my leave.”
Your windshield got foggy, your bumper was still lame,
But somehow your car looked exactly the same.

You rolled out the exit, confused and annoyed,
While the wash proudly flashed: “CLEAN CAR DEPLOYED!”
And you muttered, “Well dang… we just got robbed,”
As the dust settled back on your hood, “That has to be fraud!”

So now folks all whisper, “Don’t go there, my friend.
That wash hasn’t cleaned a car since two thousand‑and‑ten.”
But still it stands proudly, a monument seen.
To the world’s first carwash that never washed clean.