Attacked by paintballs

Excitement clings to me like a magnet, I swear.

Tonight I drove over to the grocery store. A couple of streets from my house, something hit my car really hard. I thought it might be a chunk of ice falling from a tree, but I wasn’t sure. Nothing seemed amiss, so I kept going. By the time I’d finished shopping, I’d forgotten about it.

On the way home, several somethings hit my car REALLY hard in exactly the same location. This time there was no doubt that someone had thrown some sort of object(s) at my car.

When I got home, I took a look at the one side of my car and found a very long and very wide gash in my paint...on the roof. Also some abraded paint just above the door. And a similarly large scratch on my trunk and hood. Very upsetting.

I called the police department, not really expecting anything, but the dispatcher wanted to send an officer to the house to take a report. When the officer arrived with his bright flashlight, the story became much clearer. I’d been attacked by the paint ball brigade. The front of my car, on the other side, was pasted with paint ball splats.

I asked the officer if a paint ball could possibly put scratches like the ones on the roof and trunk and hood of my car. “Oh yes,” he said. “When they’re cold they’re as hard as rocks. It’s a good thing you didn’t have your windows open. You could have been hurt.”

I hadn’t thought of that. He was quite put out and was especially pleased that I knew exactly where it happened down to the house and yard. I don’t know that anything will come of it, but I’d be really happy if the little brats got caught. I think they owe me a new paint job on my car. They really did a number on it.

After the police officer left, I took a bucket of soapy water out and washed down the car. He suggested I might want to do that sooner rather than later so the chemicals in the paint wouldn’t further damage my car. Just what you want to be doing on a 35 degree night. So, my car is at least clean now, if slightly the worse for wear otherwise.