I have always enjoyed Spring and Summer rainstorms. There's something about the combination of the rain falling and the occasional flash of lightning and crack of thunder that creates an almost tranquil atmosphere for me.
It turns out I'm not such a big fan of the storms that bring hail along with them.
... Neither is my car.
With a substantial storm rolling through the Little Apple today, my car has seemingly suffered the consequences.
Picture a spider with a torso no larger than a ladybug, but nine legs (it's a mutated spider), six of which are around two-feet long. Now picture this arachnid squished flat on a large pane of glass, the likes of which one might find at the anterior of a motor vehicle. This is the ailment (spider fracture... call it an "arachture") currently plaguing my poor mode of gas-powered conveyance.
To conclude this exercise, picture a gangly 25-year-old staring at the arachture, looking like the Royals reacquired Neifi Perez. That's me, realizing how much it will cost to replace the windshield.
It's funny, I was not really sure where I was going to take this after the previous paragraph, but I just realized something... Ice has proven my foil yet again!
Over the past year-and-a-half, the frozen form of water has firmly established itself as the Wes Mantooth to my Ron Burgandy. It has yet to start a gang-war with me involving local TV news personalities, but it has done just about everything short of it. It has broken my wrist, shut of my power, caused a bevy of brain-freezes, watered down my soda, and now violently attacked my car.
I have tried to resolve our issues in a peaceful nature: refilling ice trays as necessary, avoiding ice skating at all costs, and not even thinking about tossing any ice cubes in a blender. Nevertheless, Ice seemingly does not favor the idea of a pleasant resolution to our differences. I'm beginning to fear the thought of chilling my drinks with covalently bonded hydrogen and oxygen atom cooled to zero-degrees Celsius. Who knows when a covert cube will wreak havoc on my insides?
The only option I have left is fighting back. I'm defrosting my freezer, buying a blowtorch and an ice pick, and heading to the Arctic. I may even swear off any television show, movie or song featuring Ice T, Ice Cube, Vanilla Ice, and similarly named artists. Sorry Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze, but Ice has gone too far.
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