I was a bus driver for our university's bus service while I was a student. As any bus driver will tell you, some busses are more competent than others. Some seem to run flawlessly every day, while others just can't go an hour without something breaking. Mine was the latter.
Now, I don't know about other colleges, but there was never a day I was in college that our university wasn't doing some sort of construction. Whether it be road repair, a new building, new sidewalk; construction was my university's heroin, and those motherfuckers were ALWAYS getting high. This one fall they were redoing the roads around our med center. Unfortunately for us, three bus routes went right through that area, including mine. And every time I did, dust from the construction would get all over my windshield, so I'd have to use the washer fluid. Well, sure enough, about halfway through my shift, old 599 in all its fuckin glory stops spraying washer fluid on one side of the windshield - my side.
So I call my supervisor (also a student) and tell him the problem. He says he'll meet me on campus with a bucket of washer fluid and a wiper. Now, while I'm en route to meet him I keep testing the fluid to see if it'll kick on again and I notice: it didn't stop spraying fluid, the hose that ran from the washer fluid compartment to the wiper had ruptured. And every time I pushed the button, a stream of fluid sprayed forward about 6 feet. Like an old man that could no longer control his bladder, 599 had effectively developed the ability to piss out washer fluid.
When I meet my supervisor I demonstrate for him this newly acquired ability by pulling up behind his car and thoroughly dousing his back windshield with a blue shower. He finds this hysterical. It took all of 30 seconds for him to decide this was too funny to just give me a wiper and leave it at that. He hops on the bus and we go forth on a spattering adventure. Like the hobos who wash your windshield when you come to a stop, our mission was to ensure the students and vehicles of our university would not fall victims to the dust, and dinginess of the construction.
Now, I know a bus is an inanimate object, but if 599 could come alive for just a few minutes, she would tell you that this day; this was her moment of self actualization. A bus that was hated by all for its inconsistency and inability had finally found it's calling. She could squirt. And that's what separated her from all the other ladies in the fleet. Suddenly, to me and my supervisor, she was the hottest commodity in the force. We ventured forth, baptizing the shirts, backpacks, legs, shoulders, you name it, with the ejaculate of cleanliness. Some laughed, some were angered, most just tried to figure out what had just happened.
Now, some of you may say this was a dick move or rude, but there was good done that day. While we sat at a busy intersection, we saw one girl crossing while looking straight down at her phone, not paying attention to her surroundings (which is extremely dangerous. Keep your eyes up when you're walking to class). So we decide this girl must be taught a valuable lesson. We waited until she was in perfect alignment with the broken hose and gave her one giant douche of blue-colored common sense. The look on her face as she examined the fluid covering her side and legs suggested she was not happy. But I guarantee you she never crossed the street looking down at her phone again.
But, like an over-the-hill rocky giving it one last go, the phenomenon was short lived and came to a halt when 599 had exhausted her fluid. She was taken to the shop the next day and the hose was repaired.
There's few things I wish for more in this world than a video recording of the washer-fluid-baptising. But we were fined over $2000 if we were caught using our phones on an active bus.
TL;DR an old, broken bus ruptured a washer fluid hose, finally has its moment of glory.