I Write - Therefore, I Am

Birds cherry-bombed my nice, shiny, just-washed car in downtown Tulsa the other day. I was in parked in space #3 when it happened. Mike and I couldn't figure out how this incredible mess landed on just my car and not any other car in the other 5 spaces on that row.

What a mystery!

Did someone scare a flock of birds in Kansas and they were still on the run from the horrible beast that frightened them so bad they were still had a bombing raid going on whilst flying over Tulsa?

Bird tourists taking in a show at the performing arts center?

Bird protesters who had a meeting with the mayor? Did they have Texas chili for lunch (this would explain a lot actually)?

Something was amiss and we had to sleuth out this mystery.

We went back to the scene of the crime the next day in Mike's car - his shiny, just-washed Corvette - and made our way to parking space #1 because, in Mike's world, there is no other parking space for the awesomeness of his Corvette. "Go big or go home, baby!" is his motto and it's quite evident that all men think the same way because they all give him the thumbs-up as we're driving along.

I kid you not. They really do. All the time.

So, we went to work as usual and came out 8 hours later and lo! and behold!

A shiny, just washed Corvette with not a smidgen of bird bomb sitting in parking space #1.

Thumping Mike on the head when he's laughing hysterically is a challenge for my short, rather height-challenged stature so I just gave him one of those "looks."

You know .... the "look."

Anyway, after Mike got over himself, we looked around for a possible cause. We went all around parking space #1. No bomb evidence. We then went around parking space #3. TONS of bomb evidence.

The mystery was solved when we happened to look up to see that parking space #3 sits between 2 electric poles - both with transformers.

The birds were either:

1. Cold - doubtful since it was at least 90 degrees the day of the assassination on my car.

or

2. The birds have some freaky weird thing about sitting on electric wires that probably zap tiny little bolts of electricity along the line.

Thrill-seeking Birds of Tulsa. There are worse names I could have called them but my mom and dad get these posts so I'll refrain although I'm sure they know their daughter well enough to know just what I'm thinking.



The Moral of this Story? There's a few here for sure. I'll get back with you on it.