Yesterday I finally got around to applying an aquaphobic coating to my windshield (let's call it Rain "Y" for trademark purposes). The timing, as it turns out, was excellent; the rain poured down starting at about midnight last night and it is forecasted to continue steadily throughout the week.
Normally, I wouldn't be lauding a chemical product so enthusiatically, but I found that the transparent but greasy stuff worked amazingly well. This morning's drive to work, one that could have been anywhere from somewhat frustrating to downright perilous, was instead typical as ever thanks to my crystalline perspective.
The heavy rain drops beaded, gathered together, and at highway speeds made their way up the windscreen and over the top of the car with haste. In the diffused light of mid-morning, the droplets of water sparkled into my eyes as they moved swiftly across my field of vision, like little mercury marbles racing up the glass. If I focused too long on the sheeting action, sucddenly the rain seemed not to fall but to rise up in waves as though gravity had been locally and momentarily inverted.
Had I not been operating a vehicle, I would have been mesmerized by the flow of the shimmering spheres, letting them lull me into a drizzly trance. As it was, I arrived at work and found myself oddly appreciative of Minnesotan chemical engineers and myriad factory workers I'd never even met.