Well then, here’s a story about glass behaving exactly the opposite of all these exploding panels.
I was staying with friends in London. Their house is at the end of a cul-de-sac. People frequently drive in by mistake and have to turn round under the windows where I sleep. Their headlights do a Fandango round the ceiling.
On this occasion, about 1a.m., the car came down, turned round but did not drive off. It stayed put, 20m from the end, lights on, in neutral, with the engine screaming at full revs.
After 5 mins of this clearly something was wrong. I went to check. The driver was slumped over the wheel, out. Gone. I banged on the side window. I banged on the windscreen. Nothing. This brother was away, nah.
The car was screaming its head off. His foot was hard down. I was impressed how it didn’t blow up. It smelled dangerously hot.
Heads started appearing and I asked one to call Plod. A few mins later a patrol car arrived. I explained the situation. Our constable drew his truncheon and banged smartly on the window, then windscreen. Nuttin’ goin’ to disturb me sleep, nah.
Somehow, the driver had activated the locks. The officer decided he’d better break in. The Met’s finest truncheon was deployed with maximum force to the r.o.s window. Nada! Resisted all that our man could throw at it! Repeated stern banging got nowhere.
I mentioned that my host was in the tree business and in a jiffy I could provide a piece of heavy metal.
I reappeared with a pick axe. The constable, taking no chances that his window smashing technique was deficient, stepped back two paces, wound himself up and launched a massive swing at the window behind the driver’s head.
Smash! Glass everywhere! Engine still screaming. No reaction from the driver.! Was the man dead?!
Policeman killed the ignition, the screaming stopped. Maybe it was the sudden quiet that woke the man from his coma.
I put the pickaxe away and went back to bed.
Fantastic as it was, my friends, whose bedroom directly overlooked the scene, had heard nothing!