Paging Franklin Dixon

I've been working on mysteries without any clues for the last couple of days. I discovered some marks on the side supports of our detached garage (as in from the house; not aloof), about mid-calf high on my leg (I'm 5'8"). I fear it may prove to be one of those dreaded math word problems: 'if a locomotive leaves Yakima heading south at 60 mph departing at two in the morning and another train leaves Wombat Falls at 3 AM, heading North at 45 mph, what's the conductor's name?' I HATED math word problems and have spent most of my life unsurprised math is a four letter word.

I've been looking for animal teeth marks on the wood, or maybe paint flecks on the noses of some of the squirrels that hang around in our backyard hoping for a hand out every time the back door opens usually courtesy of our daughter, Michelle.

Michelle stands on the back steps and throws handfuls of peanuts at the rodents as the darkness gathers before dinner. I don't know how they know she is going to do it when sometimes she doesn't even know, but they're ready every single time. Spooky. 

I'd almost not be amazed if the squirrels had been involved in this, not that I'm attached to the paint job on the garage door, but it was the NOT knowing part that was making me crazy. Walking past my parked car, I noticed on my front bumper on my side what seemed to be cake frosting at about the mid-calf level (probably the same height if I were Richard Harris in the rain, oh no....).

Yeah, it turned out, speaking of turning, I've been creating my own zebra customized front end auto treatment while slowing widening incrementally my garage door. At least that's what I'll be telling myself I was up to when I go shopping for that double-wide. 
-bill kenny