I called a glass center because there was a star on the windshield of my car. “When did that happen, ma’am?” the damage man asked. My dramatic ride over the Afsluitdijk in the dark, the gusts of wind, the hail, the oncoming traffic, the treacherous slippery conditions, and later suddenly seeing the battered windshield, I told him all about it. Quite detailed too. “Shall we just write down ‘time unknown’?” he replied with a sigh. Then I knew my kids were right: I’m going to be a boomer.
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