When I was a kid, I didn’t know what “auto detailing” was. Well, I thought I knew, but it turned out later I was wrong.

There was only one business in my neighborhood that advertised “auto detailing.” And their sign had some cheesy airbrushed flames and a hideous lion on it. So I always figured that “detailing” a car meant getting flames or animals or those placid lakeside scenes painted on them. It was only when I was about 20 that I learned that “auto detailing” meant just cleaning the inside of a car. I guess just saying “I need to clean my car” would be construed as needing to clean the outside of the car, though that’s always been “wash the car,” not “clean the car” to me.

Maybe this little tidbit just passed my knowledge base because my dad was supremely anal about keeping both the inside and outside of his cars spotless. So we never had cause to visit a “detailer.” Dad always did a better job himself.