1957

There are some things that I associate with another time and place because of television and movies. One of those things happened today. I left Amanda's house this morning, having fallen asleep on the futon at around 2 AM, to discover some gunk all over my windshield. At first, I had no idea what it was.

I was parked under a pine tree, but no pine tree (at least in the South) saps that much, that thickly in one night. The yard man had been there that morning, so maybe he had hit a bird and the blood had hit my car. But that couldn't be it, because it wasn't red and there were no feathers. It also wasn't any sort of fuel, because when I tried to use my wipers to clear it, it didn't move.

I drove home trying to figure out what it was. By now, I'm sure you know what happened. But it wasn't until I parked outside of the apartment that I found the tiny bit of shell that would clue me in: my car had been egged. With an egg. And the yellow in the middle of my windshield was dried on yolk. And it stank, like an egg rotting in the sun does.

I went upstairs and got a rag, tried to clean it off, but that was of limited success. So, I took my car, for the first time in three years, to the car wash.

I have never been to the car wash because my car doesn't get that dirty. I rarely go on dirt roads, and even when pollen coats the ground so thick that it looks like a gypsy wonderland, I still won't go. The rain will remove anything grossly huge. Anything else I can live with because it does not affect the way my car runs. Egg on the windshield, however, is impairing visibility to a grossly unsatisfactory level.

So, I cleaned it off...it didn't even remove the paint from my car.

But to get back to the topic I started with at the top. It pissed me off because it felt so childish. No one hates me enough to egg my car (no one who even dislikes me knows that I'm in Tifton right now). So, it was vandals. From 1957. They were then going to go heckle a black person and go home to watch Hee Haw.

Why do I hate people as a collective? Because of the tendency to chaos for no damn reason.