stinkydog

Good morning yall, did you have a nice weekend? Mine was great right up until I went to go get in my car on Saturday only to find it looking like a small, concentrated, paper-filled tornado had hit it. Is it weird that the first thought that entered my mind was that the neighborhood cat had somehow gotten in and shredded my mail pile? Eternal optimist, I guess. Also, I hadn’t had any coffee. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that somebody had broken in. They emptied out the glove compartment, the center console and pretty much everything else that could be emptied. I had that immediate “oh shit” moment where I tried to remember if there was anything important I had left in there that was missing.

First, let me back up and explain: it wasn’t exactly a “break in”. I never lock my car. This goes back to the time in my life (college) where I drove this little 1980’s Ford hatchback that ran on hamsters. This car was, at best, um, a little rickety. You were fine as long as you didn’t have to go up any big hills or over 40mph on the freeway. Among its many charms was the fact that the key hole on the drivers’ side was so stripped down that if I locked myself out of my car, I could basically take ANY key and open the door with it. I could have probably used a nail file. The same was true for the ignition. You could just turn the key holder and it would start. This was not exactly a deterrent to anyone wanting to steal my car, but I always figured that if someone needed a ride so badly they were willing to steal a something that was about on par with sitting in a covered wheelbarrow with a go-kart motor then, you know, more power to ‘em—the gas gauge is broken by the way, buddy, you got about 2 miles left.

I drove that car for the entire time I was in college, never having to worry about locking myself out. Then, when I actually got a car from a time past the Reagan administration, I was screwed. I was so used to not needing anything besides a nail file to get in, that I continually left my keys everywhere and locked myself out so many times the Pop-a-Lock folks sent me a Christmas card. I am nothing if not willing to adjust so I came up with a brilliant plan: TWO sets of keys. That worked approximately… two times.. til the 2nd time I locked my OTHER set of keys in. So, I gave up and stopped locking my car.

I know you probably think that’s stupid, but if you never leave anything valuable in there laying out and you drive a totally non-sexy car (hellooooo, Pontiac Vibe) people aren’t so motivated to rob you. Plus, everyone knows someone who had their car totally jacked up, having to replace an $800 dollar window that the crooks broke so they could steal your ABBA Gold CD and your $50 stereo. I have lived like this for years. Never any problems. Til Saturday.

These little f#*$ers rifled through MY STUFF. How dare you crunch up my Parenting Magazine and empty out my change holder filled with 376 pennies and 2 nickels? What, that wasn’t enough for ya? Oh yeah, sorry, the change is all sticky because I accidentally spilled a Sprite in there last week and hadn’t cleaned it out yet. Serves you right, jerkle. So yeah, back to the STUFF—I hadn’t left anything important in there. A few library books, Hopper’s Safari Winnie the Pooh, my stinky jogging shoes, my ipod—which they totally missed by the way… either that, or they didn’t like my three playlists titled JOHN DENVER’S GREATEST HITS Pts 1, 2 and 3. (no accounting for their taste). Nothing was actually missing. Because I have watched seven and a half episodes of CSI, I determined that the fact that the car was so messy and nothing was missing indicates either an extremely inexperienced thief just looking for ready cash i.e. bored neighborhood kid. OR that right about that time, Mr. Bean started hurtling himself against the front window and they figured someone might be waking up soon. Ah, Mr. Bean, if only you didn’t regularly start howling at 3am at…NOTHING. We might have taken you more seriously. I heard you making all that noise, I just threw a pillow at you and rolled over. My bad.

So, in short, folks, maybe I should start locking my car? I don't know. They might come back for the stinky shoes, or my pile of renewal notices from BARK magazine.

Boo, Thieves: you suck.