Somebody Shot My Car!!

No.  It's not bird poo.  Its the crack in my windshield where somebody shot my car.  Bastards!

*There will be profanity.  Just sayin'*

So.

I'm on my way to Hilton Head, on Interstate 77 South, nobody around me, and I see something coming at me from across the median.

I thought it was a bug.  It glinted in the sun and came at me fast, in a straight line. 

Then it hit my windshield with a sharp sound and cracked it.....

And I was like "Somebody shot at my car!  Somebody over there just shot my car with a BB gun!"

Mother F______!  (I'm sorry, but that is what I said and there is just nothing else to say and there is no sense lying about it....)

Anyway, I didn't want to stop because, you know, they might shoot me again and hit something more valuable than the windshield.  And I was sort of afraid to call 911 because, I mean, what if it was a rock or something.  But it wasn't.  Somebody freakin' shot my car.

Flabbergasted and shocked,  I drove on down the road to the next exit and there just so happened to have been a deputy sheriff at the gas station where I stopped to check out the damage.  He looked at me like I was crazy, by the way, until he looked at the windshield and then he decided to look into it.  I made a report, so I feel like a good citizen.

But now I gotta get the windshield fixed.  Damn it!

When I got to Hilton Head my Daddy came out to meet me and said "How was your trip" and I said "Somebody shot my car!"  He looked and agreed that that's what it was.

Again - Bastards!

It's kinda scary.  What if some nut had had a real gun?  Wouldn't that be a way to go?  Driving down the highway, obeying the speed limit, listening to Depeche Mode, minding your own business and then BAM dead because somebody else is mean or crazy or stupid or deranged.

I guess that happens to a lot of people, though, doesn't it?