Last night I parked a little tight to the edge of the space in the car park, and when I returned, one of my windscreen wipers had been stuck up in the air – I saw the red Porsche that had been parked next to me exiting the car park and surmised he didn’t like having to squeeze into his car, and had retaliated in as petty a way as possible.
This morning though, I got into the car and turned the wipers on to clear the morning dew, only to find half the windscreen remained unaffected. More careful examination of the wipers showed that the one that scoundrel had interfered with was no longer aligned with the windscreen, so the blade no longer swept across the glass, making it useless.
I drove to get coffee, then stopped at the car rental office on the way back to explain my plight and ask how to fix it. After a few minutes prodding the wiper and inspecting the spring in it, they offered me a replacement vehicle, recognising this was one of those things that happen in Seattle.
So, after all this, I’m getting a clean car tomorrow, which means a grumpy Porsche driver in the PCC supermarket carpark has washed my car for me. So no complaints.