Your fucking windshield wiper breaks. And not the passenger side, either, but the driver side. And not the wiper, oh no, but the motor or whatever. The damn jeezless thing ain’t even got a whimper in ‘er. RIP. Press F to pay respects.
I left the pickup 40 minutes ago, and I was due in North Carolina at 1100. The Loves shop won’t open for another three hours. Who knows if they got the part to fix it. I keep flipping the wipers hoping she comes back to me. Please, Darling, just a little flick. Nothing too much, honey, you’ll hardly feel it, c’mon, just give a man his due.
Well, there ya have it
