Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as easy as jumping in the car and zooming off. First we had to clean out all the glass from the windscreen. Then Dixon used a wrench to knock out the remaining snaggly shards that clung to the frame. He insisted I text Roger about the accident.
August 12
From: Roger
You can’t drive without a windscreen! It’s illegal!!! You’ll have to get it replaced.
August 12
To: Roger
Come on! The Esses just passed us! We have to go now.
August 12
From: Roger
You cannot proceed without a windscreen. Rules say so.
August 12
From: Roger
Go to nearest repair shop. Then you can continue.
—
“Goddammit!” I snarled, then pulled up a list of windscreen replacement businesses around us. “OK, there’s one half a mile from here, just off the highway.”
“One what?” Dixon asked, brushing out the last of the glass. Tabby and Sam exchanged glances.
“Car repair. I don’t know that they have windscreens for 1908 cars in stock, but they will have to give us something.”
“Oh dear,” Tabby said softly.
I pointed a finger at her and got behind the wheel. “None of that, missy. That’s disparaging talk, and I won’t have any of it.”
She saluted and ran for their car when I started up the Flyer.
“You are aware that it will take hours for them to replace the windscreen,” Dixon said quietly when I waved at someone who’d let us into the stream of traffic.
“Normally, yes, but we’re going to put the full pressure of a reality TV show on this place and hope for the best.” I took a quick glance at him. His face was grim. “It’s not over until it’s over, Dixon. Anything can happen in the next twelve hours.”
“That is most certainly true,” he agreed, but I had a feeling it wasn’t in a good way.
The windscreen business we found was run by young, enthusiastic car aficionados who greeted the arrival of the Flyer with cries of delight. When Dixon requested a new windscreen, they pointed out they would have to custom shape the glass to fit the frame.
“Can you replace the existing frame with a new one?” Dixon asked the most excited of the men.
“No,” one of the other men said, but was quickly drowned out by the other two.
I asked Dixon what the men said, my German being scant enough that I didn’t catch much of the conversation.
“The first one said they can do a new windscreen, but it won’t look right, and the second man said that it won’t match.”
“Tell them we care about function, not appearance.”
“I have done so.”
