Photo credit: M3tainfo.
Someone ransacked the car last night. The contents of the glove box and door holders were all over the seat this morning.I’m considering placing a box and a sign on my front lawn for the individuals who ransack neighbourhood cars. The sign would read, “This container is for the return of the items taken from vehicles that have no value to the pilferer but will cost the car owner to replace.”
I would like to return the thief’s Bic lighter left on the front seat; it doesn’t belong to us.
Discovering my vehicle purloined in the morning does little to improve my mood. I have visions of the culprits. I have visions of what I would do with the culprits. I have visions of my middle-aged-overweight-suburbanite-self doing punishment time with the seasoned criminals for my actions, while the troubled delinquents are nurtured by a caring society that only wants to rehabilitate them.
The family vehicle has been parked outside lately. The garage is doubling as a temporary furniture refinishing studio. Let me rephrase that. My girls are fixing some old furniture in the garage. It is not a business! Last thing I need is a city inspector poking around looking for violations on top of my sump pump draining onto the back lane leaving water marks.
The family car was sitting on the drive pad. The other half of my relationship, who constantly reminds me to lock the doors, forgot to last night. (Not appropriate to do happy dance.) And so the Conway “Free Back Lane Self-serve Car Rummage Sale” was held.
It seems the Honda Accord store didn’t have much to offer the light fingers. CDs, satellite radio, flashlight, bug spray, prescription glasses and clip-ons were not for their shopping cart.
I suspect the petty crime artists were not readers; they didn’t steal the book. It was short stories on crime – you’d think the subject matter might have piqued their interest.
They also lacked some refinement in music; the 1968 Harry Hibbs Black Velvet Band recording wasn’t taken.
My wife believes they made off with her white framed sunglasses. Then of course those shades have been a search subject for “Have you seen my glasses?” a number of times; they may still show up. I’m curious what the thief will do when the spoils are checked in the light? Will they drop the sunglasses off to the owner when they realize they netted a pair of prescription eye wear? They’re only worth $250 to the right person.
This is not the first time nocturnal rustlers have visited our homestead. A few years ago they made off with an 80-pound punching bag by disconnecting the beast from the garage rafters and absconding into the night. In their excitement to pilfer the bag they missed the $100 punching gloves sitting on the bench. Car was locked that time.
Crimes like this become personal. When I was young, nothing pissed me off more than my brother touching my stuff. ‘Hey man, I worked hard to earn the money to buy those comics. I don’t want your sticky finger gumming up the pages.’ Thieves are people that take the stuff you’ve worked to earn. How can you not be pissed?
To diminish the anger, I try and change the image of the <expletive> thief in my mind. He was small and skinny, he needed to steal. Maybe the thief couldn’t afford prescription glasses so theft became the option.
The police were called and my report was filed. It seems they were not interested in doing any forensics stuff with the lighter. I was careful to not touch anything in the car thinking a CSI technician would stop by to dust for prints. Not going to happen.
I’m serious about returning the Bic lighter. We don’t smoke and have no use for it. If the perpetrator could stop by again I would gladly shove it where the sun don’t shine… Looks like I still have some anger issues.
