"Is it ice or just condensation?" I wondered curiously to myself and the children sitting on the curb nearby waiting for the schoolbus.
"We have no fucking idea," the children answered.
"I'm an intelligent man," I lied to myself and the children. "I'll check first."
I ran my hand across the glass on the driver's side. It was just pure water.
"Ah, this means I can run my wipers to clear it off instead of having to scrapey scrapey*," I enunciated.
"Good for you," the children encouraged apathetically, lighting a cigarette as they did so.
I sat in my truck, started the engine, and immediately cursed as it nearly stalled out. "Bastard mechanic adjusted my idle too low" I reminded myself, having forgotten to fix it last weekend as I was out of town.
I pushed the gas on my truck, bringing the engine idle up to speed to prevent it from stalling. And then I turned on the wipers.
The driver's side wiper slid smoothly across the condensation, clearing it away without a problem.
"SCRAAAAAAAAAAPE!"
The passenger's side wiper was another story.
"MotherFUCK" I shouted intelligently to myself and the smoking toddlers awaiting the short bus.
Apparently just the driver's side of my windshield was safe for wiping. The passenger side of my windshield was frozen solid. The wipers had set a trap and I had fallen right into it!
Those devious bastards!
* Another pointless reference to a movie some of my friends made back in college involving a mad serial killer murdering people with a windshield scraper.
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