Once upon a time butyl tape was used to seal a vehicle windshield into place. This 1/2 inch thick, rubber-like tape would be rolled out into the windshield well to form a gasket upon which the glass would be gently set and then manipulated into place.
Windshield installers could determine a good seal by checking to see if the black butyl tape was squeezed firmly against the inside of the glass. Any bubbles or voids discovered in the seal could be slowly pressured out out of the butyl tape by gently and firmly pushing on the glass.
I’m inside a stranger’s car.
It’s dark inside the car and directly in front of it I see a serious man hunched purposefully over the hood.
Dude’s looking at me but not.
Staring at the windshield.
He places his two huge meat-hooks against the glass.
Positions them a special way. With intent, obvious intent.
Pasty-white meat-hooks pressed hard against the clear surface, skin flattened in a remarkable way.
Dude grunts and forces himself full weight against the windshield.
Big ‘ol meat-hook configuration this way for a couple of seconds then changing position to fingerprint-up another spot the next.
Grunts relay Dude’s intense attention as nervous beads of sweat sparkle his furrowed forehead.
Something at the perimeter of the windshield catches his eye…
Another grunt raises a mighty right meat-hook far above the glass, casting the same shadow that soon-to-be-expired gophers see before taking wing via hawk, and brings it down hard in a thunderous SMACK!
SuMack! SuMack! The mighty windshield accepts it’s beating.
SuMack! SuMack! SuMack! It’s defenseless pleas flood the vehicle.
Come on you son-of-a-bitch! Come ON! I hear Dude holler at the unyielding glass.
Seal you bastard, SEAL!
SuMack! – SuMack!
Sucrick…? I wonder inside the car.
While outside the car…
Neeewwwww! (what is that racket?!)
No – Ohooooooo!
No! No! No! Noooooooooooo!
Meat-hooks morphed into mad clumps now.
Feverishly pumping the air.
Fuck NO! Pump, pump.
Uh uh, N-No! Fuck NOoooooo!
You bastard! You bastard!
You fucking bastard!
More mad clump pumping and walking away.
Back into the darkened shop.
From the distance: You fucking bastard!! No!
I see why the hollering and wild walking away.
A white lightning streak across the glass.
In this new windshield.
A crack. In this brand new windshield!
The old man was installing…
Now it’s broke.
And dad’s a bit broker.
I’m sittin’ in stranger’s car is all.
Thank you, friend.