We had our Snowball fights back in Detroit. The agreement among us kids was not to throw any snowballs at old people. or definitely not at anybody’s cars. The people with three personal cars parked on our street were always watching behind their curtains when we played in the streets. I recall a Mr. Jones running outside in t-shirt and long johns ‘brandishing’ a folded umbrella, because somebody’s child was sitting on the hood of his car eating a candy bar. He about lost it for a moment, till Mrs. Jones called him back into the house.
“Get off my lawn—er, car!”