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:: Wednesday, April 30, 2003 ::

A Rainy Adventure

It was one of those torrential downpours that makes you stare through the window out into the parking lot where your car is, trying to light the spark of courage to risk a drenching.

I got into my car and began to race down Butterfield Road from St. B's along with everyone else - the organized melée mocking the "Speed Limit 45" signs watching us in helpless resignation from the sidelines.

My windshield wipers were boxing their fastest one-two punch they could muster against their fluid opponent, when, all of a sudden, the driver's side blade took flight. It flung itself onto the median and tumbled across the asphalt. By the time I awoke to this new development, I was too far down the road to retreive it safely.

I was nearly blinded, but I used the remaining blade to clear the far side of the windshield. I might as well have popped the hood up for all I could see. I recoiled against the screeching that attacked my ears coming from the remainder of the broken blade. I bumped across the median to a service station that just so happened to have a three-garage shop.

When I arrived, the attendant was disputing with another patron over a mistaken receipt. I asked if they had any wiper blades - mine had fallen off in the middle of Butterfield. He sent me into the garage to ask the mechanic. He had me pull under the protection of the pump area, and $7.95 later, I had a new blade.

I pulled back out of the pits into the inside lane to rejoin the race. As I crested the hill, my newly invigorated blade wiped itself off the windshield and hooked itself on the side mirror. Once again, I was blinded, but I could not turn the blade on this time for fear of snapping the whole thing off.

God, what am I going to do?

The rain slowed down - stopped, really. I punched the button to lower my window, and tried to push the dislocated blade back onto the windshield when I stopped at a red light. Darn. That didn't work. A gap formed in the stream flowing down my windshield enough that I could see to pull into the hardware store parking lot. Thank you, God!

I discovered that the driver's side blade was returning to the wrong resting position. I pushed it back down to where it was supposed to sit, and ran it for a couple minutes. I couldn't taste the adreneline so much any more. I pulled back out onto Butterfield, and made it back home, albeit at a more daunted pace.

I hope that it doesn't happen again.

God protected me - I know it. Praise him! Thanks be to God!

:: Matt 4/30/2003 01:01:00 PM :: permalink :: ::
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[::..Spirituality I..::]
:: Foundational ::
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:: Primary Texts ::
:: The Practice of the Presence of God (Image/Doubleday Ed.) [>]
:: or ::
:: The Practice of the Presence of God (Spire Ed.) [>]
:: The Weight of Glory [>]
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