Yeah, Good Oya

Someone keyed the bonnet of my car. They have slashed across it, and across it, with long, deep, gouging strokes right down to the metal work on the front of my car.

I wondered why?

People park those electric scooters across my gate. Literally, blocking my gate, we have to move them to leave our house, occasionally two deep. Almost, on a daily basis. We are, kind of, the first house on the street and they just pull up and park. Not giving a shit about anything but themselves, clearly. Blocking us in. Every second day.

So, I now take them to the middle of the street and give them a push, and they sail right into the gutter on the other side of the road and crash. If there is two, they become a pile of those fucking scooters.

Maybe, one of the neighbours have seen me do this. People are weird now a days, maybe one of them felt they had to make a stand for the scooter companies, even if they have nothing to do with scooters themselves. You know that type?

But, they would have to know which is my car, as there is no connection when I give the scooters the heave ho from the mid point of the street. I am a car enthusiast and one of those people who knows whose car is who's in the street and I don't know who owns what car.

Was it because that side of the street is timed parking, where my side of the street is resident's permits only, and my car was in one of the scarce timed parking spots while it had a resident's permit.

Well, a resident wouldn't do this because they would have a residents permit themselves and I would think they wouldn't even notice. And would any casual, random person looking for a parking spot know the difference? Unless, it was a resident who had more cars than allowed resident's permits. But that seems unlikely.

Was it because I'd left it park at the very end of the parking spaces at the end of the street where all the drunks just naturally congregate on Friday/Saturday night. We've become very popular ever since whichever marketing dickwad declared us the coolest suburb blah, blah, blah. The downside of that is that we now get the bogan tourists from other suburbs coming to our suburb now that the great unwashed have, essentially, been told where to go if they want to be cool. No thinking required. The irony is that their very presence diminishes any 'coolness' we may have had, real, or marketing-moron imagined.

You know those people who, if we did the same thing, yell and holla and yahoo, in their street as they do in ours, they would be complaining loudly and bitterly.

"It's not ryght! It's just not right!"

Some piece of shit, probably so drunk, or out of it on whatever, mindlessly just did some art work on the bonnet of my car.

"I'dn't that preeeeety."

That one I can imagine, sadly.