You know how nervewracking it can be hauling your horse in a downpour? Well, imagine what it would be like if you suddenly didn’t have any windshield wipers in that downpour. I wasn’t hauling a horse–and it wasn’t raining that hard–when it happened to me, but it was still a scary (now amusing) experience:

Before I left the office yesterday, I had the genius idea to switch my windshield wiper blades. The blade on the driver’s side had been leaving a large streak in my field of vision, and since it was raining slightly, I thought replacing it with the passenger side wiper would be a good idea.

I removed the blades, but when I went to put them back in, to my dismay, they wouldn’t fit snugly onto the wipers. Oh dear, this could be bad. I tested the wipers once, and they seemed to be ok, so off I went. Before I even made it to the first stoplight, my driver’s side blade flew off my windshield.

Uh-oh.

I tried (again) putting the blades back on and then headed to the nearest gas station. It wasn’t exactly a torrential downpour–it was just enough to completely obscure my vision at any speed over 5 miles per hour.

Safely parked at the gas station (finally), I asked the attendant about wipers and wiper blades, but he had no idea how to fix or install them.

I got out my handy dandy iPhone and found a Ford-only auto repair shop in Boulder, called and asked if they could talk me through fixing my wipers. They tried their best, but it was no use, I still couldn’t get the blades securely fastened to the wipers.

The man told me if I could just get to the shop, they could help me out. He assured me they were only about 1-2 miles away from the gas station where I was stranded.

Out of options, I decided to try my luck in reaching the repair shop. I manually wiped off my windshield, plugged the addresses into my GPS, and headed out to find the shop–except I headed the wrong way. I needed to turn around, but my wipers were about to fly off the windshield once again! I pulled into the nearest entrance, were I met a lady closing up her shop for the evening.

I asked her if she had any duct tape, or any kind of tape, but she didn’t. She pointed me to a collision place right down the parking lot from her.

At this point, I was a little frantic and almost in tears. The tears would’ve been another source of frustration for me, as I pride myself as not being one of those girls who cries every time something goes wrong.

At the collision center, I learned their technicians had left for the evening, but the manager thought the place next door was open until six. Once I arrived next door, it turned out they weren’t open that late.

I returned to the collision center (this time there were tears) and asked if they had any kind of tape so I could at least make it to the Ford place without having to stop every few minutes to retrieve my wiper blades from the road.

The man must have felt bad for me, because he procured some masking tape and proceeded to tape my blades onto the wipers. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would at least give me enough time to get to the Ford place.

Upon arrival at the Ford shop, the nice man secured my blades to the wipers in less than 30 seconds. Boy, did I feel like an idiot. I simply hadn’t been clipping them on right.

Throughout this ordeal, I didn’t talk to any family members; however, the cherry on top of this sundae story is when my mom called.

I was finally calmed down and on my way home when the phone rang.

“Did you get new windshield wiper blades?” my mom asked.

“What?!”

She repeats her question.

“Huh?! What?! How–?” I stuttered for a few minutes and finally managed, “Did I tell you about the windshield wiper saga, because I don’t remember calling you?”

It turned out, at some point during the fiasco I had unknowingly dialed my mom, and she had a voicemail of me discussing the wipers with the mechanic.

At the end of this stressful ordeal, I had a long laugh with my mom, and I’m very grateful for strangers with masking tape and a very nice Ford man!