This is what’s wrong…

It’s not all fun and games, like you’re a teenager driving an Opel and happen upon some girls frolicking in their front yard, seemingly begging for some attention. It’s a Mustang, you fuckheads. You don’t earn wheel time by pissing off the owner.

On the bright side:

• I now have garage space, so I am not the mad sexy target.
• My car got it’s second paste wax in a week.
• I got to indulge my inner Picasso where the eggs compromised the paint. Yes, I got chipped by eggs. Me = Owned by Foghorn Leghorn.