My son gave me a fabulous Christmas gift – a gift certificate to get my vehicle detailed at the local car wash.

The weeks after Christmas were too cold and we had company, so I didn’t make it to the car wash place. One late afternoon, I went, but they didn’t have enough workers there to fulfill the intent of the certificate.

So I left, saying I’d be back.

January turned extremely busy, February even busier, and my car got dirtier and dirtier.

“As long as I can see out the back window, I’ll be fine,” I told myself.

Spring break was looming, and I thought I’d be able to take my vehicle to the car wash.

And then the coronavirus scare hit.

Getting prepared for a shutdown and helping out with the grandkids trumped getting my vehicle washed, and then businesses shut their doors.

This week, I couldn’t stand the grime any longer and dragged out the hose, water bucket and sponges.

It’s been a while since I’ve washed my own vehicle. I told myself I was doing my part for the economy by supporting a local business.

But now it was time to stop waiting for the quarantine to pass and wash my car myself.

I filled a bucket with soapy water, dipped an oversized washcloth in the suds and started on the hood.

It took a bit of time to scrape the love bugs off. As I scrubbed, I realized love bug season was months ago. Had it really been that long since I’d washed my car?

Apparently so.

I’d forgotten the license plate was white with black letters – it had been dirty for so long, I thought the license was gray – and what a pain the hubcaps were to clean.

I gave the outside a thorough scrubbing, stopping twice to change the water. With sweat pouring down my face, I stepped back, expecting to see a gleaming vehicle.

The car looked like it had stripes of dirt.

Apparently I was rusty when it came to washing cars.

So I went back over the exterior twice and was finally satisfied I’d gotten most of the grime off.

Then it was time for the interior.

I took inventory.

Toys and books were strewn all over the floor mats, in addition to empty juice packets and Legos stashed underneath the seats.

There was mud on the backs of every seat and door, on the carpet and even on the seat belts.

In addition, the youngest grandchild had opened a box of M&M’s so there was melted chocolate in the seat and even down in the seat-belt holder.

I pretended not to see that.

Underneath the seat, I raked out a pile of candy and fast-food wrappers. I was okay with that until I realized the candy wrappers were from Christmas. Had it really been that long since I’d cleaned out my car?

And that’s only the mess the youngsters left. I had my own fair share of fast-food wrappers, CDs, gum wrappers, letters and gas receipts stuffed in the shelf underneath the dashboard.

The trash filled a garbage bag, and the toys filled another one.

A half hour later, I stopped vacuuming because I was worried the motor was going to overheat.

It took another hour and half a bottle of Windex to clean the seats, windows and dashboard.

When I finished, my car looked like it had just come off the show room floor, well except for those dings on the side of the car I put there banging the door against the wheelbarrow in the garage, the dent from parking too close to a trailer and the missing paint, courtesy of the love bugs.

That car’s been in the garage for a week now. I told myself it’s because I don’t have any business going anywhere during the coronavirus quarantine.

The reality is — I don’t have the heart to take that car anywhere and dirty it up again.

I think I’ll wait for the car wash to reopen and tell myself I’m helping support local business.

Maybe they’ll have more luck with the love bug carcasses than I did.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.