Who do you call when your (rear) windshield's busted?
If you live in Boston, you call Giant Glass. Damn them and their catchy commercials but seriously, their advertising works and because of that ear worm, I called them on Saturday morning to come and fix my car.
So let me back up a bit and tell you WHY my rear windshield is busted. Or, the story of how the back of my car basically exploded on a sunny Saturday in August.
Picture this: 10:00am, the lovely western 'burbs. I had an agenda in mind. The four of us were getting ready to head to my nephew's birthday party for the afternoon. The party was to start at 1, and I had to pick up the cake at Donna's in West Roxbury. Mr. P and Charlotte went out and got bagels early while I did some housework and packed a bag for the afternoon trip.
When you have two kids, you pack for the afternoon. This is the truth.
Around 10, we all piled into my Volvo to go pick up the cake. The timing was crucial - the kids would probably fall asleep in the car. Round trip, we'd probably be gone 40 minutes, so Charlotte would get a mini-nap and Claire would stay sleeping until we got to the party at 1. After picking up the cake, we'd stop off at home, grab the bag, the fruit salad I made and my nephew's present - I'd hop in the shower and we'd be on the road by 12:30.
My timing was impeccable. Everything was on schedule. The kids were behaving.
But I had to stop for gas, because my car was low and we had a lot of driving to do. Mr. P has a small sedan so we usually take my car for weekend outings. I pulled into the station up the street from our house, but the price was ridiculous. I knew of an insanely cheap station on the way to my sisters' house, so I asked for just 10 dollars worth to get me to Lowell and back and I paid cash. I got my gas, gave the guy a 20 - the attendant gave me my change and said, "You're all set, have a good one," so off I drove.
Except I didn't get far before I heard an ungodly crunch and saw - and felt - shattered glass raining everywhere. The attendant never took the nozzle out of my car, so the gas hose broke away like it was supposed to when something like that happens, but the nozzle flew up and ricocheted off of my rear windshield, shattering it.
You can imagine the string of expletives that rained from my mouth. Luckily Charlotte doesn't repeat much. My 2 kids, despite the fact that it sounded like a bomb literally went off in the car, were unfazed. Charlotte kept reading her picture book and Claire? Slept through the whole thing.
I shook the glass out of the double stroller which was in the back of the car and sent Mr. P home with the kids and I stayed to deal with the situation. There was glass literally everywhere in the car, including the car seats. Miraculously, nobody even got nicked by the glass. I had a pretty big shard in my sandal but I didn't get cut. I called the police and made sure I got a full report that stated that it wasn't my fault. But man was I pissed. The people at the gas station felt horrible. It's an accident and accidents happen, so I tried to keep my pissed-offed-ness at bay as best I could but MAN was I pissed. They vacuumed out my entire car, which, looking on the bright side was fantastic because it really needed it. In addition to the glass, their shop vac sucked up all the crumbled animal crackers and goldfish crackers under Charlotte's seat, which was nice.
Once all was said and done, I drove home all ghetto style with no rear window. Incidentally, if I had been home in Lowell nobody would have even looked twice. I called Giant Glass and they are on their way here this afternoon to fix it. It sucked to be car-less all weekend but luckily we squeezed both car seats into Mr. P's car so it was fine.
Oh, and I should mention? That I did get that shower in, we did pick up the cake and we did make it to the party ON TIME. Talk about pulling it off, no?