eggs and teens

I hate teenagers.  Even though it wasn't that long ago that I was one, I hate them.  TWICE now in the past two weeks my car has been egged by late night revellers.   And no, it's not a case of me being singled out by someone who hates me (but thanks for the vote of confidence if you thought that. . . ), as I'm not alone on my block in being victim to this annoyance. 

So now, if you are lucky enough to ride in my car, you will enjoy the lovely aroma of the rotting eggs that have seeped into my air intake.  Please try not to vomit.