The Interstate swung towards the lake, clouds raced across the dark sky, and as usual in this corner of the state, the weather turned raw. A gusty rain pelted the old car, and the windshield wipers began their uneven song. Gabe, the driver, grunted. “What’s wrong, honey?” asked Liss in a slow, sleepy voice.

“These fuckin wipers,” Gabe said. “What’s with this old car? I can hardly fuckin see.”

“Honey, don’t swear. Maybe you can get the wipers fixed at the next rest stop.”

“If I could see the next rest stop,” Gabe muttered.

Liss stretched, her youthful breasts lifting. “It’s two miles ahead. I just saw the sign.”

“Your eyes are better than mine,” Gabe said. A moment later, sure enough, there was the rest stop ramp. “Good timing,” Gabe said.

As the old car pulled into the plaza, the rain let up. “Even better timing,” Gabe said. He and Liss smiled at each other.

“You should get the wipers changed anyway. It could rain again.”

“They’re not likely to have them for a car this old. But we’ll see.”

“Can we get some soft serve first?” Liss asked. “They have a McDonalds.”

Gabe parked near the entrance. “Want to wait here?” he asked.

“No, I have to pee anyway.”

Gabe opened his door. “If you wait a moment, I’ll check the trunk for an umbrella.”

“Too much in a hurry,” Liss said, opening her door. “I’m going to make a dash for it. Maybe you could get me a vanilla cone.”

The girl at the counter was just handing Gabe the soft serve cone when Liss appeared. “Mmmm,” she said, taking it from Gabe’s hand. “A nice big one you got for me. Want a lick?”

“Maybe a second-hand lick,” Gabe said as they strolled towards the exit. Gabe stopped just before the door. He guided Liss to a corner behind a kiosk and kissed her. “Mmmm,” he said. He kissed her again, deeper and longer this time.

“You’re making me drip,” Liss said when the kiss ended.

“I like it when you drip,” Gabe said. “Maybe later I’ll have a third-hand lick.”

“You’re so naughty,” Liss said. “Look, we’re in luck. The rain is practically stopped.”

They got in the car, and Gabe started it up. “We don’t really need gas,” he said.

“But shouldn’t you change the wiper blades anyway? You never know when it’s going to storm.”

“I guess so.” Gabe drove the car up to the service area, which was at the far end of the plaza. Two old men were standing beneath the overhang. They were looking up at the sky. Gabe looked at Liss. She smiled and licked the cone and licked her lips. “Funny old coots,” Gabe said. “Here goes nothing.” He got out of the car.

A middle-aged man was talking to the two older men. “You got a bathroom?” the middle-aged man asked.

“Nope,” said one of the old men. Gabe noticed he didn’t have front teeth. He had a name tag on his uniform shirt, but the lettering was worn smooth.

“You’ll have to go back to the McDonalds,” said the other old man, whose name tag said Gus. He pointed towards the plaza.

“But it’s one way,” the middle-aged man said.

“Just take it slow,” said the old man without teeth. “And don’t crash into nothing.”

The middle-aged man got back in his car. Gabe entered the shop. The two old men followed.

“What can I do you for?” the one named Gus asked.

Gabe explained about his wiper.

“Well, let’s see what we got,” said Gus. The three of them walked to the cash register counter at the far end of the shop where there was a rack of wiper blades. Gabe noticed the different sizes: sixteen, eighteen, and twenty inches. Some of them were priced at $6.95 and some were $9.95.

“What size is it?” asked the toothless man.

“I’m not sure,” Gabe admitted. “Do you have a chart or something?”

The toothless man chuckled. Gus said, “What we usually do is just match ‘em up. If you take off the wiper on your car, we’ll get you all straightened out. Is it the driver’s side or the passenger’s?”

“Driver’s,” said Gabe, walking back to the door. “The passenger’s is fine. Isn’t that the way things always work?”

“That’s right. If they was the same size you could switch ‘em,” Gus said. “Course they’s never the same size any more.”

“Right,” said Gabe. He was back at his car. He looked at Liss through the windshield. She hadn’t finished her cone yet, but she was getting down near the rim. She always liked taking things slow. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Gabe mouthed at her through the windshield. Then he lifted the damaged driver’s side wiper and managed to detach the blade from the arm. He handed it to one of the old men.

“Okay, now we match ‘em up,” Gus said, taking the worn blade inside the shop. “You got a big one. Looks like it’s a twenty incher.”

But it was more than that, and twenty inches was the largest size in the rack. Gabe looked at the two old men. “Don’t worry,” said Gus. “We got more in the back.” Gus disappeared through a doorway.

While he was gone, Gabe chatted with the toothless man. “Always seems to storm around here,” Gabe said.