Everything was fine, and then the unseen rock or midnight BB gun. It sneaks up on you, you know. Year upon year. The things you tolerate, get used to. First there was a little chip, regrettable but part of the experience. This one formed a tiny cross one winter, little cuts of light into the glass. In the spring it started moving, slowly. I’d make a mental note of where it was in relation to something on the dash, and eventually it stretched beyond my reference points. Another year or two, who knows. It goes more than halfway across now.
You know what this is, of course—my brother-in-law doesn’t drive his grandkids down the road behind a sheet of broken glass—but then it’s just an ancient Ford. Judging from the parking lot at Walmart, you could get a correlation going here. It’s kind of like my shirts.
John Hamilton Farr lives at 7,000 feet in Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico, U.S.A. As New York Times best-selling author James C. Moore tells it, John is “a man attuned to the world who sees it differently than you and I and writes about it with a language and a vision of life that is impossible to ignore.” This JHFARR.COM site is the master writing archive. To email John, please see CONTACT INFO on .png)
My windshield acquired a crack within the first two weeks in Taos. I notified the insurance company and they looked at me like I was crazy. In Colorado, where I came from you could get a ticket for a cracked windshield. I got the first new car of my life five years ago and the windshield was cracked in a few days. I had it replaced and it was cracked again within the month. I gave up. Five years later I have cracks going in all directions and I won’t replace the windshield until it seriously obscures my vision. Besides I like to take photos of interesting scenes while my husband is driving. Soon there won’t by any crack free spaces to focus.
That’s it, all right, that’s how it works. Our other vehicle, the road car (’07 Vibe), that one I keep whole. It’s like paying for glasses or teeth. I’ve bashed into a couple of things here—lightly—but our windshields have survived. Colorado 71 heading north from Limon is pretty bad in that respect, I think. When the Vibe was new, a rock flew off the back wheel of an oncoming semi as it passed and smacked the windshield good. Had to get a new one, couldn’t stand it!
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