Part of the crack
A crack had been spreading across my windshield for a few months. I hadn't gotten it replaced before because I'd never stayed very long in any town large enough to have auto glass shops. But I'm in Yuma for a while. Plenty of places here to get the windshield fixed.
I had also avoided the repair because of the cost. Or what I imagined it would be—five or six hundred dollars. Maybe more. I was feeling rich, though, and ready to bite the bullet.
I did a search for auto glass places and found one with high customer ratings, including praises for their low prices compared to others in the area. So I went to Novus Auto Glass for an estimate.
"One ninety-seven sixty-three," said the lady.
"For the whole ball of wax?" I replied, incredulous.
"Well, two thirteen twenty-two, with tax."
"Cool." Very cool.
I was at the shop bright and early today. The painful, ugly part was watching them power chisel the old glass out. And there was a bit of thumping on a wiper that didn't want to come off.
Can't go anywhere like that
Farewell, old windshield
But everything went well, even if it did take longer than they expected. They had to wait for their tubes of windshield adhesive to warm up in the sun so it would be soft enough to come out of the tube. I guess they don't store the stuff inside. Doh.
There we go!
It has been a long time since I've looked through a virgin windshield. Not only are there no cracks and chips, but also no water marks, wiper streaks or bug guts. That's just not normal.