Posted By Kristabella on October 29, 2012
I drive my car once a week, if that. And that is to and from the grocery store. Sometimes, like the past few weeks, I’ve driven my car out to the burbs to visit family. I fill up the gas tank once a month.
My car is from 1999. It runs just fine, but it is old and it has 160,000 miles on it. The AC doesn’t work, it’s missing a side mirror and there are so many dents on it, I’ve lost count. But that is OK. I park in a lot behind my place and I don’t care if anything happens to it because it suits my needs just fine. Recently I noticed some new dents on the passenger side of the car and I just shrugged them off.
This is why I don’t get a new car. Between not ever driving and the random dents, I’m better off with my trusty Nissan Sentra.
This past Saturday, I was going up to the burbs to babysit Skyler and Noah. I got in my car, the first time in a week, and something seemed off. I noticed the contents of the console were tossed. I figured this was like the last time this happened, and they were looking for change. They maybe got 5 pennies, since the console was cleared out of change back in Decemember the last time someone was in my car.
Oddly, I was not phased by this. The glove compartment wasn’t open and I just figured it was some punk-ass kid looking for a big score. In a car that was probably as old as he was. Eh. No biggie, I thought.
And then I noticed that there was something on the floor.
“Hmmmm,” I thought. “That is odd. Also, what the hell is that? Did the hood popper thing fall off? Is my hood going to fly up while I’m on the expressway a la Tommy Boy?”
Upon closer inspection, I realized it was the panel door to the electrical panel in my car.
First thought: Well, that’s stupid. What the fuck could they steal in there? A few fuses? HAVE AT THEM.
Second thought: HOLY SHIT. SOMEONE TRIED TO STEAL MY CAR.
And then I got in my car, tweeted about it, and then drove off to suburbia. It didn’t really hit me until like an hour later when I got to my brother’s house. And then I just kept saying, over and over, “I can’t believe someone tried to steal my car.” (Seriously. WHAT THE FUCK.)
I didn’t call the cops. Because, in case you haven’t heard, there are more important things the police need to be doing in this city. And really, they tried to steal it and weren’t successful. What is there that they can do? I mean, my car is worth less than the hours a police person would put in on it.
I’m just glad that they didn’t break a window to get in and also that they DID NOT STEAL MY CAR. Because the insurance money would probably get me a month-long membership to Zipcar.