Work Keeps Him Dancing for Joy: Businessman finds carwash an outlet for the gift of life

Keith Smyre turns washing cars into an art form.

He bobs and weaves, spins and shimmies as he wipes windows and spreads suds. Sometimes, he dances to hip-hop, sometimes to the rhythm he hears in the rumble of the generator that powers his water sprayer.

"When water pumps out," he said, "I hear music in that machine."

Smyre, who owns a mobile detailing service, goes to customers' homes or businesses and washes cars. He also does waxing and other detailing services. When he works on several cars, he parks them in a circle and goes from one to the next, bouncing on his toes, darting in and out like Muhammad Ali.

"Ye-ah!" he yells.

Jennifer Pettitt, a regular customer for several years, watches him work from the windows of the hair salon where she is a stylist.

"He is amazing," she said. "I don't think he has 2 ounces of body fat. He burns it all day long." Some of her customers, fascinated by his work ethic and his enthusiasm, have taken to scheduling hair appointments and car washes at the same time.

"It's contagious," Pettitt said. "You can tell he loves it."

Susan Grose spotted Smyre washing cars in the parking lot near her workplace. She asked him to wash her SUV. She has hired him about every two weeks ever since. "He does great work," she said, "and watching him is a trip. I don't know how else to say it."

She finds Smyre to be spiritual and uplifting, she said.

"He doesn't just wash my car. We have lots of discussions about religion and faith."

One recent morning, with water shooting from a tank parked in the bed of his gleaming red pickup, Smyre sprayed and soaped two SUVs and a sedan. With a mitt on each hand, he spread suds, his hands crossing in an intricate dance and forming swirling patterns on the cars. He moved like a human windshield washer, back and forth, back and forth, on feet clad in high-topped shoes with bright blue tongues and bold orange soles. Clouds of mist rolled off the cars as he sprayed them.

Before long, he was soaked with water and sweat.

"I love this," he said. "I'm having the best time of my life at 53."

Another morning, when he finished washing a white sedan, he raised his arms in victory, looking like Rocky Balboa on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

About eight years ago, Smyre decided to quit detailing cars at a car dealership and go out on his own. One of his customers told him, "Keith, you know what you need to do? You need to work for yourself." His wife, Carla, agreed. He decided to do it, and the word spread through flyers that list his prices -- $25 for hand-washing a car or small truck, up to $90 for detailing a van, SUV or full-size truck.

The dancing came in when Smyre revived some of the lessons he learned as a boy growing up in Hickory. His parents always kept him occupied with classes and activities, including tap and ballet lessons, football and boxing. Although his friends kidded him about taking dance, he enjoyed kicking up his heels. When he decided to add dancing to his carwashing, he said, God told him:

"I'm going to put you there where you can show what you can do."

Finding the right work, work that you feel passionate about, means that you can feel as if your job isn't really work, he said. And money isn't everything.

"Money doesn't motivate you but so much," he said. "Millionaires -- I've met them, and I hear them complaining."

Now that he has found his calling, Smyre puts everything into it. He works with grace and stamina.

"Oh, baby, if you treat your body right, like your temple," he said, "you can be your own doctor." He cares for his body like he does his car, home and yard, he said. And he believes in hard work.

"My mother always told me something; I thank her to this day," Smyre said. She told him, "If they are paying you minimum wage, you work as if you were making triple that an hour. You don't know who's watching you."

He has set a high standard that his mother would approve of. For instance, he pulls out a fresh towel for every window he cleans. "People notice that," he said. "They do pay attention."

■ Janice Gaston can be reached at 727-7364 or at jgaston@wsjournal.com.