A car just pulled up to the driveway across the road from my house (in that he was blocking the driveway, not driving into it), and a very respectable-type man got out. His wife, looking the very spitting image of the good little prissy thing I'm sure she tries very hard to appear as, sat inside. He had pulled over to scrape his windshield.
I can't wait until I am in the great state of Misery (as everyone up here is ever-so-fond of calling it) again, where the act of scraping one's windshield is almost ludicrous, especially in the middle of a drive. Only in the glorious upper midwest is an act like that acceptable.
On the off chance that you assume that I'm being assumptuous, let me point out that no one of any respectability has ever lived on our street. Ever. And if they did, they most certainly would not choose the driveway of the Evil Drug Dealing Duplex to do their scraping business in front of. No sir.