I had a funny Valentine’s Day. I went out in the afternoon to buy something for my sweeties, and only made it as far as the nearest garage. It was raining, which in itself is pretty odd for Ontario in February, so I put the windshield wipers on, and that was it. I have crossing wiper blades, and they crossed and never uncrossed. One blade hit the other and suddenly it was like watching giant stick insects fighting. Arms and legs were ripped off and bent into inconceivable positions. I could feel the strain as rubber and metal attempted to gain control. At the end, I had two carcasses embracing on the windshield.
Off to Canadian Tire, that all Canadian institution with a solution for every problem. I bought new wiper blades and managed to install them myself. Impressive. I got soaked in the process, but I still had time to get to the shops. I switched the wipers on and…battle of the insects. I quickly switched off the engine and stopped the carnage. My next solution was to call Tom. I was lucky; he was home.
In 10 minutes we were both soaked and freezing. He decided that the timing was off and that’s why the stupid things kept attacking each other. We went into the garage at Canadian Tire and told Debbie (we’re on first name terms due to the amount of time I spend in there) all about the problem. No, she didn’t think they could fix it that day. Conference between Tom and myself. I was trying to figure out how I was going to get Becky home, and then we had to get to appointments in Toronto the next day…”we’ll figure it out Debbie. Just take the van and get it fixed whenever you can. I’ll cancel tomorrow’s appointments”.
The last comment spurred her into action. Maybe they could have a quick look at it and let me know if they needed to order parts. They had the van in Lickety Split. Tom and I watched from the VIP box as four mechanics jumped on the front of the van. We waited and waited, and had a strange conversation with a gentleman who couldn’t decide if he wanted to chat or go to the bathroom.
Half an hour later, Debbie came in, rattling my keys, to say the wipers were fixed. One of the arms had come loose and needed tightening, and they had to replace a blade, but they only charged me for a new wiper blade! “You’re the best”, I told her. I told Tom that this was his Valentine present as I wasn’t going to make it to the shops. He seemed quite choked up. “New wiper blades”, sob, sniffle. Who says romance is dead?