Blades Of Bitter Failure

Before you start reading, this really is a post about my inability to fit windscreen wipers. My life really is that empty. If you were hoping for a story about tits, fire and Batman, then I’m sorry.

Cars mystify me. I can’t even tell you in basic terms what happens under the bonnet when I turn on the ignition. Presumably something ignites. Petrol. Hmm. I’d like to contrast this with my frustration at people who can’t do basic things on a computer and then giggle about it. I’m a hypocrite. Rather that than a mechanic. I’m so rubbish with it, when my car last had its MOT, the guy was shocked I hadn’t noticed that one of the wheels was fucked. His word. Technical term.

What I had managed to notice all by myself was that my windscreen wipers actually made things worse in the rain. Instead of clearing the water so I could, er, see, they smeared muck and shit everywhere and made a weird rubber-on-glass noise that’ll be familiar to perverts everywhere.

Off to Halfords to buy replacements. In the windscreen wiper department. It was like a fucking warehouse, it was ridiculous. Three thousand slightly different sized blades. Shelf after shelf of them. How big are mine? No idea. Windscreen sized. Not helpful enough. Ah, but there’s a guide book. Of course there is, nobody knows the size of their windscreen wipers. Or maybe they do, just one of those things that you pick up and remember and has totally passed me by.

Of course, the page with my car on has been removed. Brilliant. So I ask the lad behind the counter, who is barely old enough to be out of a booster seat, let alone knowing anything about cars – let alone knowing more than me about anything, the jumped up little git. He finds it straight away, of course, in the other guide booklet. Balls, now I look silly. Do I want the generic Halfords branded ones, or the authentic awesome properly branded ones?

Er, I have no idea. Will the Halfords ones fall apart after 20 minutes, like some own brand stuff? Or is it the same blades in a different box? Price difference is £3. Sod it, I’ll have the expensive ones. Just been paid, money’s no object. If this had happened at the end of the month, I’d be getting out the car and wiping the windscreen myself instead. Savings, what savings?

Then it’s an extra £3 for them to fit the blades for me. £3, sod off – I’m not that flush after payday. So off I pop to fit them myself. Can’t be difficult, the box says it’s “child’s play”. Child’s. Play. It’s a fucking weird child, if you ask me.

The instructions have little diagrams on, like 5mm x 5mm, and no words, so they can send the same picture across the world. Unfortunately, the first picture looks like you have to unpick a coathanger and use that to unclip the wiper. They’d give you a hook if you needed one, wouldn’t they? It seems not.

I’ve had three goes at it, figuring that I must have just been tired, wrong or in a rush before and that this time it’ll be fine. Three times I’ve walked dejectedly away like a twat, beaten by a bit of plastic. Could go back to Halfords, “I bought these the other day…” but I’d look an even bigger dick.

My dad will fix it. First fucking time, he’ll fix it. Won’t need a hook or any tools, it’ll just work. Balls.

Title thanks to @Scaraboo