Watch these two friends turn a routine car wash into a Black Eyed Peas dance party disaster as the vehicle's sunroof rips off mid-cycle leaving the duo soaked. The clip has racked up more than 2 million views on Instagam.

Whilst jamming out to "Rock That Body" by the Black Eyed Peas, Elleah and her friend Jenna were left screaming as water began pouring into the car.

Elleah, the filmer, revealed that after the wash they inspected the car and found that the sunroof had been completely ripped off.

She told Newsflare: "What started as a routine Sunday errand in small-town New Mexico turned into a chaotic, laugh-through-the-shock ordeal that neither of us will ever forget.

"My white Subaru was long overdue for a car wash, so my friend Jenna and I decided to take care of it the easy way: an automatic car wash in town. Nothing fancy, just a casual afternoon plan. But if there’s one thing to know about us, it’s that we find ways to make even the simplest errands entertaining.

"As soon as we pulled in, we turned the experience into a full-blown dance party. Flashing lights, water spraying from every direction, and the Black Eyed Peas blasting through the speakers—it felt more like a club than a car wash. The day before, we had taken Jenna’s car through this same exact wash and danced the entire way through without a single issue. It was so much fun, we decided to do it again the very next day—this time in my car.

"That decision, as it turns out, was a mistake. Before we entered, Jenna reminded me, 'Make sure all the windows are rolled up and double-check the sunroof.' I did. Everything looked sealed. Confident, we propped up the phone to record, hit play on the music, and rolled forward.
The wash started like normal—colourful lights flashing, soap coating every inch of the car, water pounding the windows as we danced in our seats, completely carefree. We made it all the way through to the very end: the drying section.

"That’s when Jenna looked at me and said, slightly disappointed, 'I think it was more colourful last time.'

I shrugged. 'Nah, I think it’s the same.'

"And then—without warning—water started falling from above.
In a split second, it felt like rain pouring directly into the car. We screamed in unison trying to dodge the water. My first instinct was to grab the sunshade and hold it shut, but the water kept coming in waves. There was nothing we could do but sit there, soaked, screaming and laughing in disbelief as the car wash finished its cycle and pushed us out like nothing had happened.

"We just stared at each other, stunned. The only thought either of us could fully process was this: at least it was all on video.
Still dripping wet, we pulled into the free vacuum area to assess the damage. When I stepped out and looked at the roof of my car, the problem became clear immediately. The entire glass sunroof had completely detached—unglued from the frame.

"To keep it from flying off on the interstate, we carefully removed the glass and placed it in the back of the car. We closed the sliding sunshade, hoping it would hold, and started the drive home.
Four miles later, traveling at 75 miles per hour, the sunshade made its own exit.

"In an instant, it ripped free and vanished onto the side of the interstate. By this point, all we could do was laugh—air roaring through the open roof as if the car itself had joined the chaos. We turned around to search for it, but there was no luck.

"Just two girls walking up and down a stretch of empty New Mexico highway, laughing hysterically, wondering how a simple car wash turned into one of the most ridiculous days of our lives."

What started as a routine Sunday errand in small-town New Mexico turned into a chaotic, laugh-through-the-shock ordeal that neither of us will ever forget.
My white Subaru was long overdue for a car wash, so my friend Jenna and I decided to take care of it the easy way: an automatic car wash in town. Nothing fancy, just a casual afternoon plan. But if there’s one thing to know about us, it’s that we find ways to make even the simplest errands entertaining.
As soon as we pulled in, we turned the experience into a full-blown dance party. Flashing lights, water spraying from every direction, and the Black Eyed Peas blasting through the speakers—it felt more like a club than a car wash. The day before, we had taken Jenna’s car through this same exact wash and danced the entire way through without a single issue. It was so much fun, we decided to do it again the very next day—this time in my car.
That decision, as it turns out, was a mistake.
Before we entered, Jenna reminded me, “Make sure all the windows are rolled up and double-check the sunroof.” I did. Everything looked sealed. Confident, we propped up the phone to record, hit play on the music, and rolled forward.
The wash started like normal—colorful lights flashing, soap coating every inch of the car, water pounding the windows as we danced in our seats, completely carefree. We made it all the way through to the very end: the drying section.
That’s when Jenna looked at me and said, slightly disappointed, “I think it was more colorful last time.”
I shrugged. “Nah, I think it’s the same.”
And then—without warning—water started falling from above.
In a split second, it felt like rain pouring directly into the car. We screamed in unison trying to dodge the water. My first instinct was to grab the sunshade and hold it shut, but the water kept coming in waves. There was nothing we could do but sit there, soaked, screaming and laughing in disbelief as the car wash finished its cycle and pushed us out like nothing had happened.
We just stared at each other, stunned. The only thought either of us could fully process was this: at least it was all on video.
Still dripping wet, we pulled into the free vacuum area to assess the damage. When I stepped out and looked at the roof of my car, the problem became clear immediately. The entire glass sunroof had completely detached—unglued from the frame.
To keep it from flying off on the interstate, we carefully removed the glass and placed it in the back of the car. We closed the sliding sunshade, hoping it would hold, and started the drive home.
Four miles later, traveling at 75 miles per hour, the sunshade made its own exit.
In an instant, it ripped free and vanished onto the side of the interstate. By this point, all we could do was laugh—air roaring through the open roof as if the car itself had joined the chaos. We turned around to search for it, but there was no luck.
Just two girls walking up and down a stretch of empty New Mexico highway, laughing hysterically, wondering how a simple car wash turned into one of the most ridiculous days of our lives.