Sunday, March 22, 2009

The Puddle Jumpers Nightmare

     Spring arrived a couple of days ago wherever you live, unless of course you live in the Southern Hemisphere in which case autumn arrived.  In any care, around here it was largely ceremonial because it was warm before the Vernal Equinox, when it was still supposedly winter, and it snowed two inches the day after the Equinox, so go figure.  But one can tell that spring is hanging around.  The sun angle is higher and the days are getting noticeably longer, the sun is stronger, and every once in a while one can catch a whif of that spring sort of smell of things being uncovered and being exposed to the sun and the fresh air.  Here and there one can see the beginnings of green now that most of the snow is gone.  This is the single biggest sign of spring in the Great White North: the melting.  And as would be expected, all the snowmelt creates big puddles everywhere.
     This excites me very much.  If you didn't know, Company, now is the time for you to find out.  I am a notorious puddle jumper.  Oh yeah.  I seek them out and run through them at high speed with my car, bicycle, moped, whatever I happen to be driving.  Whenever I see a big puddle my eyes get huge.  Ask Dingo about it.  I get a raging, mega-hard boner every time I see the truly gigantic puddle that forms every spring outside her apartment, which used to be my apartment, so as you could imagine I used to see it a lot.  Anyway, I love puddle jumping so usually this is a joyous time of year for me.  It really is.  I can't emphasise this enough.  Do not walk on the sidewalk near big puddles because me and my trusty DykeSedan will seek them out and make them my bitch.  But not this spring.  This spring I am living the puddle jumpers worst nightmare. 
     Well, the second-worst nightmare maybe.  If you hadn't heard, here is the deal: my car is currently not blessed with windshield wipers.  The motor broke and there have been some issues in terms of finding the right replacement.  No big deal.  You might be saying "Big Dave, you silly bitch, your car has windshield wipers they just are not working."  Well, in response to you I say first of all let's not be such a stickler for technicality.  It's unattractive and it gets one nowhere unless you want to be a lawyer who pisses everyone off.  Second of all, you are wrong.  The motor, the blades, the little arms that connect the wiper blades to the rest of the car, they are all gone.  So no, my car really does not have windshield wipers.  This is not so bad, really.  I just can't go anywhere when it's precipitating, or when the roads might be wet.  But this also means that I can't go puddle jumping.
     See, when one drives at high speed through a gigantic puddle, the water from said puddle has a nasty tendency to go everywhere.  Like, if your window is open you will get wet.  And a big wave will wash over your windshield.  Do you see the problem developing here?  I can't drive through puddles because I have to way to wipe the water away and still see where I am going.  This is soul-crushing to me.  Imagine if your favorite thing to do was to have campfires in your backyard but it was really dry and there was a burn ban imposed.  You would be lost.  Sure you could probably still have a fire and get away with it if you were careful and made sure to take good control of it, but you still know you shouldn't.  Same with me.  I am missing one of the simple joyous things in my life.  I mean, sure, I could still plow through puddles at Mach 1 and be okay as long as I knew there was no one in front of me, or I could stick my head out the window until the water ran off or dried or whatever.  I could even help the situation by applying an industrial-sized coat of Rain-X to my car, but that's not the point.  It still just wouldn't be right.  
     I discovered that there was no way to incorporate my joyful puddle jumping into my current situation earlier this month.  I gave it the old college try, even though I am not in college anymore, and it had disastrous results.  Not so much disastrous but certainly deeply embarrassing.  I was tooling along the highway in the right lane and I saw a big puddle.  Immediately my tail started wagging.  So I go for it, not thinking about the consequences.  And it was glorious.  It was a long, deep puddle stretching along the iced up curb.  And the wave of water was something to behold.  I did behold it in fact, as it splattered across all but about five square inches of my windshield.  I continued to behold the remnants of the spray for the next half-mile until I could find somewhere to turn off.  It was dangerous and it certainly was scary, at least for me.  I was lucky to get off the highway into a safe place.  I then had the sad task of getting out of my car, going back to the trunk, pulling out my disconnected windshield wiper, and manually use it to wipe away the remaining water.  It was humiliating.  I was glad that no one was around to see it.  I seriously considered driving my car into a bridge abutment; only the fact that there are no overpasses within about 50 miles of the Worldwide Headquarters put a crimp on those plans. 
     That would have been a bad idea for sure, but it would have certainly been less painful.  Because I go about my life and see all these puddles and my mouth waters.  Please excuse the pun.  But it does.  I want to badly to just fly through them come hell or high water.  That pun was intentional.  But the bottom line is this situation has been depriving me of an awful lot of cheap joy lately and it's pissing me off, which is like a double whammy.  Because not only do I not get the joy but I get angry because of it.  I am surprised that I had to explain that to you, Company.  Anyway, if I know me I know that my wipers will be fixed just about the same time that the puddles are no longer available and I will have to wait another year.  Or just for the next super severe rainstorm.  But either way I am stuck here, high and dry (another intentional pun) and without the ability to jump a single puddle unless I want to stomp my foot in it.  Isn't that just terrible?

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