Last Friday, as I listened to the garage door opener sing its mechanical song and waited for the garage door to tuck itself into the ceiling cavity, I breathed deeply as fresh winter light poured into the space. Then I took a good look at my car. The previous weeks of snow flurries, freezing rain, and residual city traffic exhaust soot left a coating that practically beckoned me to run my fingers across its surface and print P-L-E-A-S-E W-A-S-H M-E.

Folded into a short list of other errands I needed to run, I drove to the dealership where I bought the car over a year ago to get my FREE CARWASH. As one of the perks of buying my Jetta, Mid-City Volkswagon offered me an unlimited amount of free carwashes – for the life of the car. I know other car dealers offer similar perks.

What a great feeling it is not to have to line up along a narrow alley until your car can roll through a deluxe car wash where packs of attendants scurry around and through your car with rags and Armor All wiping clean those spots were pressure hoses just can’t reach. And that option is light years ahead of the more common carwash option I used to choose; the $4.95 wash with fill-up at the Mobil Station on Ashland. Timesaving though they might be, I’d end up spending those short pulley operated hauls in a high state of anxiety wondering if I remembered to retract the antenna and praying that the blind metal arms and twirling brushes didn’t leave any scratches.

Once at Mid-City, I pulled up to the service door, handed my keys to one of service managers and explained that I was in for a wash. I was escorted to a waiting room where I could avail myself to their hospitality counter and choose from coffee or cocoa, cookies or fruit. I could watch a giant screen TV or read magazines from their comfy leather chairs, or check my email from one of their large screened Macs while waiting to hear their PA system announcement that Number 257 was washed and ready to go.

Of course I love the feeling of pampering, of being able to take a short break to watch the news or read a magazine I would never think of subscribing to. I love the feeling that I am doing something good for my car and for me (helping keep the car’s value up) without having to go through things I don’t like – waiting in lines or worrying about robotics. But I think I really like the idea that I am entitled to this service for the life of the car. How many things can you think of that are free for life?

I felt compelled to think about this for a while. I know there are products you can buy, like cookware, which comes with a lifetime guarantee, and there are all sorts of extended warranty agreements where you can detail types of services you’d want to receive for five years or longer. But a lifetime guarantee of a product conveys confidence in quality, but does not signal regular experiences of care. Contracts for preventative maintenance or emergency services are great, but each situation requires analysis. You have to make sure the cost of the agreement is not more than the replacement cost for the product based on a typical life expectancy. Cemeteries offer services to be paid out of endowment funds, but that kind of perpetual care is not for enjoyment. It’s just a way of being responsible for family finances.

I’d like to think that I’ll have friendships that will last for life, but these types of things are unpredictable. People can change (or often relationships can become less valuable because others don’t change while you do). I think, though, that my love for music, or the deep respect I have for agile thinking and creativity won’t change. What I value at my core is probably mine for life, and I can renew my connection with these things anytime I go to a concert or lecture, or choose to stop and think, really think.

What I value may be small things, they may not even be on other people’s radars, but I know that what I love most – music, learning, creativity – can be loved for life, and that’s no small thing.