The Spidered Crack Mystery

Last night we were running late to get to Wednesday night kids' club at church. We looked for shoes, and grabbed gear, and herded 4 kids plus 1 to the van. On the way up the driveway we were strapping on seatbelts and gathering the mail to put in the box for the next day. While sitting at the mailbox, I had time to look up for a minute, and that's when I saw it. The spidered crack in the bottom corner of the windshield, emanating from an obvious direct blow in the center of the long streaks.

"Crap! What happened to the windshield!" I said with class, as I pointed to the mess. Yeh, pointing and slang words are what I'm reduced to in moments that matter.

So the entire drive into town (we're rural - the drive is about 20 minutes) we discussed the possibilities. It was determined that most likely it was Micah because the other kids know their lives would end rather abruptly if they'd do something that stupid. Plus, Micah has had a fascination with throwing tiny pieces of gravel at the cars in the drive. Trust us, we don't encourage this in the least. In fact, it's highly discouraged. As in PUT THAT ROCK DOWN NOW AND STEP AWAY IF YOU WANT TO LIVE. And yet, the boy just does what he wants.

But here are the logistics. Micah's head is about level with the bottom corner of the windshield, so to have hit it with something, with that much force, was not as feasible as all that. Especially considering that the crack is in the very corner. He'd have had to almost bounce a (stick? rake? his brother?) off the edge of the van before he'd hit the glass. It didn't make sense.

So that brings us back to him tossing gravel. Except that gravel doesn't do that kind of damage. And if it was a rock (we all know there's an abundance of them at our place) he'd have to throw it pretty hard. Now, the boy has an arm on him, but it takes a lot to crack a windshield. And the center chip was as big around as the tip of my pinky finger. It couldn't have been a very big rock. Which brings us back to gravel.

The plot thickens.

It's been terribly windy this spring. Trampolines are blowing into people's houses, and full trash cans are rolled around lawns. Could something have been blown into the van? But it wold have been pretty big, and we would have seen something lying nearby. Right?

Color us baffled.

At church, Sam took the time to look over the crime scene. Dents riddled the van hood. Little tiny ones. So not good. I looked up from the dents Sam was pointing out and what to my wondering eyes did I see but a rock chunk in the wiper well. A rock chunk that was actually a man-fist-sized piece of concrete with a sharply pointed corner that perfectly fit the center of a windshield crack.

That boy is darn lucky that the van is only awaiting a tax return to purchase it's replacement. He's even luckier that the van will be driven directly to the scrap yard rather than sold or traded. And because he's a lucky little boy, he can also be grateful that it's not in the line of vision and won't have to be repaired.

We, however, will be trying to figure out how to keep a certain rock throwing scoundrel from throwing rocks when we're not there to see said scoundrel throw.