Finding Comedy in Car Theft

Finding Comedy in Car Theft

Flashback to an unassuming night in December…literally, six days before Christmas

I actually went to bed at a decent hour that night. My usual bedtime ranged somewhere between midnight and 1AM. Not the most conducive sleep schedule for someone who worked the day shift. Part of my old night owl tendencies shining through, I suppose. Anyway, I was in bed by 11 that night. An hour and a half later, my sister/roommate comes barging in.

“Don’t be mad,” she started off with. Not the best introduction. “But I left the garage door open.”

“So?” I mumbled, rubbing one eye.

She followed up with, “I think our cars were broken into.”

That woke me up right quick.

Slippers donned, fleece draped over my pajama’d form, and we hurried out to the garage. The cars were still intact, that was a relief. No shattered glass lay strewn on the concrete – so far, so good. It wasn’t until I looked in the window of my Ford Focus that my eyes widened.

“What the [expletive deleted]?!” I exclaimed.

“Is it bad?”

The contents of the glove compartment lay on the front seat. Everything that was at the bottom of the back seat was now…everywhere. I didn’t keep a very clean car; that I will admit, but this was beyond my mess. The archive of sheer crap from the past five years now lay in a giant pile in my car. Like a mountain of FAIL .

“Jesus, [name deleted],” I said to my sister, “what the [expletive deleted] were you thinking?!”

She started to sob. “I told you not to be mad.”

If I wasn’t so raging tired, I would’ve felt guilty.

After we both calmed down a bit, we called the police. They informed us that there was a string of robberies in our apartment complex. Odd, considering we actually lived in a nice neighborhood. In fact, we were the poorest people in the area. The culprits were prying garage doors open left and right. We…just happened to let them right in without much effort.

Luckily, there was already an officer at the complex proper – examining the other break-ins – to take our statements. My sister did all of the talking as I anal-retentively sifted through my horde-pile of car garbage.

Sometime in the frenzy, we thought we’d broken the garage door handle. Turns out…I had done it when I was examining it. Oops.

As I finished surveying the craptasticism, a thought occurred to me, Might as well use this opportunity to clean out my car.

And I did. One whole garbage bag full. I found teabeer bottles from ’07, Bollywood movies, checkbooks with decade-old apartment addresses on them, job-hunting paperwork, old Jiffy Lube receipts, church pamphlets, resumes, pens…the list went on.

Do you know what I didn’t find?

Anything missing.

The most valuable items in my car were the factory stereo (nine years out of date) and my Garmin (five years out of date). They were still there. In fact, the Garmin was actually on the floor of my front passenger seat in a leather case, and it hadn’t been tampered with. Even the checkbooks hadn’t been touched.

My sister turned up similar results when she searched her car. Nothing went missing. Not even the can of Rockstar or Bible.

“Someone thought we were too poor to steal from,” we both concluded.

And we laughed.

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Saturday, February 22nd, 2014 Musings

I work for tea money.


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