Jay Little, Maybe—Tomorrow (1952)
“ The rain splattered quick and sharp on the windshield; the wipers, scratching crosswise across the glass, made a moaning sound going to and fro, trying to free the speckled crystal of the many stars that tried to rest on it. Gaylord sat at Blake's side and his hand gently caressed the leg that moved. Up and down ... up and down ... giving life to the humming motor. A dirty splash of red muddy water arose before them. Gaylord jumped but the glass protected him. The wipers worked madly wiping the dirty windshield, clearing the view before him. ”
