I recently went to go get the car from a nearby parking space to find that the back windshield had suddenly developed a nice-sized hole in it.
Normally, holes are not a part of the car's back windshield. As constructed, the back windshield is meant to keep objects out of the backseat of the car. A hole makes that tougher to do.
"Hmm. That's … interesting," I thought, as I pondered the hole in the back windshield.
Having been a journalist for more than a decade, I decided to put some of my investigative background to work. I looked through the side window into the backseat. Hmm. An empty beer bottle. That wasn't there before. As someone who does not enjoy being pulled over by the police, I make sure not to drive around with empty beer bottles in my backseat. Thus, it was not there before the windshield developed a hole. Furthermore, the hole was just about the size of – oh, I don't know – a beer bottle.
Yes, somebody mistook the backseat of the car for a trash can – or, let's give this person some credit here – a recycling bin. Not to be deterred by the fact that this four-wheeled elongated recycling bin didn't seem to have an opening for said empty beer bottle, this enterprising person figured out an ingenious way to ensure the bottle reached its destination. Chucking it through the back window of this strange see-through recycling bin. You have to respect someone for being so committed to recycling.
A couple of hundred dollars later, the back windshield was restored and the empty beer bottle was thrown into something far more boring – an actual recycling bin.
This was my fourth experience with car vandalism.
The third experience was when somebody busted out the front side window in order to check out a few garbage bags full of clothes destined for a Goodwill after mistakenly believing that the bags contained Spanish doubloons from my recent pirate expedition.
The second experience was a simple egging. I wanted the paint to peel off my car anyway, so – really – they did me a favor.
The first experience was by far the best of them all, though.
An uncooked hotdog was stuck firmly onto my car's antenna in my college campus' parking lot. A friend who was walking with me toward the car was the first to notice it.
"Why is there a hot dog on your car antenna?"
Honestly, I didn't know.
It looked as if the person was trying to cook it, using my car's antenna as a stick and the sun as a campfire. It was college. Stranger things have happened.
I laughed, plucked the hot dog off the antenna and threw it in the nearby weeds. "Weird stuff like this only happens to me," I thought at the time before continuing on my merry way. It was a story I would retell to anyone who would listen during the next few weeks.
While driving the car to get the back windshield fixed this most recent time, I thought back to that hot dog on the antenna and remembered there once was a time when my biggest worry was an upcoming test and vandalism consisted of uncooked hot dog in an unexpected place.
Now, a repair shop awaited, along with the unplanned-for bill that would come with it, but I would worry about all that soon enough. For a wonderful minute or two, I would instead think back to the hot dog on the antenna, and – once again – I would laugh.
• Going for Gusto is a blog by Joe Grace that looks for the awesome in life. Please support Going for Gusto by liking the Facebook page at Facebook.com/GoingForGusto.
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Filed under: Columns