You heard right. It was not by choice, however. And it was done without my knowledge, too. You see, when I left to go to work this morning, my car looked very much like this:
Nice, right? I get off work around 2:30, I eat my daily apple as I walk down four flights of stairs (for the little exercise I get daily) and head over to the parking garage where said vehicle is parked. I walk up to my car and the sun is shining right on it, but it looks funny. Like the light is catching it weird. Well, that's because it looks like this when I find it:
Tagged up in primer grey paint. It wasn't even a creative color. Primer grey? Really? I guess the South Side Locos ran out of colorful paint before they got to my car. Lucky for me, our super awesome maintenance guy, Rick, had some graffiti remover handy and took it right off. No damage to the paint or the clear coat; like it never even happened. Mike: 1 SSL: 0
Nice try, gangstas. Thanks for letting be a gang thug for, like, 20 or 30 minutes. It was great while it lasted. I learned a lot about myself. Like I don't get angry when you tag my car. I found that I really didn't care that much. I even laughed when I saw it. Mostly because I'm one of the whitest guys you'll ever meet and pretty much the polar opposite of anything related to gang life. Good times. Now, you little gangsters should all go home and start working on your GED.