The Mystery of the Windscreen Wipers
The Suzuki Vitara had been in the garage for more than a week, but finally we went all the way to the mechanic's home to pick it up. He was very pleased that he had done a great job. But as wife prepared to drive, he stopped her and pointed to the windscreen wiper. "This you must change at the gas station."
He showed me how to remove it, and gave it to me.
"I can do that, no problem," said I with masculine pride. So I drove the Ford Expedition ahead of her in the Suzuki Vitara. She filled up at the gas station and drove off. I had to call her on her cell to return to buy the windscreen wiper. She returned, and I went inside the convenience store and asked the young man at the door if they had windscreen wipers. I showed him the sample that the mechanic had removed, oh man was I prepared or what?
He found one that he believed was too short but the helpful young man at the cash register simply tapped mine and said the product was the correct length. "Want me to put it on for you?"
"I can do it," said I, was there a note of confidence in my voice or something else?
After processing the purchase he politely said "I'll do it for you."
He accompanied me outside, quickly opened the the package (that usually takes me awhile, I mused), and then to my horror, had to open a second package inside the first, from which he selected something small and dark.
"What's that?" I blurted.
"Different vehicles take different clips. I selected the one for yours."
"My goodness. That would have given me problem."
As he returned inside I wanted to tip him but was so caught up in the near-escape from do-it-yourself torture that I did not get around to it. Next time I visit that gas station I must look him up and buy him a drink.