Somebody broke into our car last night!

Sitting right there in our driveway, outside the house where we were probably sleeping. It’s creepy!

The Missus thinks it’s neighborhood kids; I’m convinced it’s one of the ne’er-do-wells who have come around looking to buy our other car, which is for sale. There’s this one character in particular, he drives an ice cream truck through the neighborhood. What an ideal way to ‘case’ a neighborhood for all kinds of illegal initiatives. Whatever your particular twist might be, you could track, trace and familiarize yourself with your victim’s daily patterns without ever being noticed till you left. We need to keep an eye on the ice cream trucks!

In any case, we’ll call him “Amir” just in case he’s not the guy. Amir came pounding on our door one sleepy Sunday afternoon, wanting to buy the car, that day, for cash. Right then. He came on like a used car salesman looking to buy a blind camel. Really aggressive in a stage-friendly way. It was ‘for my friend,’ a silent, subordinate type he produced for one of his later visits. What will we take? How much. I bring cash! etc.

I basically told him to get lost, phone for an appointment, and then we would do business like gentlemen. There was no way I wanted to get into business with this guy. I have fucked up selling a car before, and ended up with hundreds of dollars of parking fines from the Compton Police Dept. officially in my name, which took forever to clear up. This time I’m being extra-careful, and this guy just sets my spidey-sense tingling every time.

Anyhow, it looks like we’re going to sell it to this other guy instead, who a) never came pounding on our door without having called first, and b) hasn’t tried to gull us out of a quarter of the asking price. Amir calls for about the millionth time, and we kinda let him know we’re going with this other guy who wasn’t trying to dicker us where we sit down.

The next night, our nice new used car is burglarized, and we haven’t heard “boo” from Amir between the phone call and the burglary, for the first time in days. He just didn’t strike me as a take-it-with-a-smile type when we kicked him to the curb.

Anyhow, whoever broke into the car took the gizmo that covers the stereo (but not the stereo itself) and cleaned all the CDs out of the glove compartment. I can guarantee you, whatever demographic took those discs, mostly personal compilations except for a store-bought Tom Waits disc, is either going to hate them, or like them and necessarily come to the conclusion that they have acquired them in a very uncool way.* They also cleared out the glove compartment, but left our tire gage and our registration for which we wish to thank them. The bastards.

Leslie still thinks it’s the neighborhood kids. Oh I almost forgot, I’m the idiot who drove the car last and therefore probably left the door unlocked. Yeah, I almost forgot that part.

It could be kids. The details of the crime itself argue for the kids – they’re happy to steal our stereo shit, but don’t really have any use for our tire gage or paperwork. But the timing argues for a revenge strike by the Ice Cream Truck driver. I know: he probably hired the kids to do his dirty work for him, much like his silent ‘friend.’

Either way, it’s obvious to me that I’m still drawing karmic blowback for all shitty, similar stuff I did as a kid, and my poor family is being dragged down with me...

So I’ve been obsessing over all the things I can do to punish the creeps who did this without hurting anyone I care about. Like a slow-acting contact poison on the door handle and glove compartment, that I could inoculate my family with a cure for first. I also like the idea of using electricity somehow, but can’t figure out a way to insulate my family from the possibility of an unfortunate, unforeseen ‘oops’ event.

Whatever idea I settle on before not implementing it, one thing is certain. If these guys are anything like me, they’ll get what’s coming to them in the long run.

*

Now if you make a pilgrimage I hope you find your grail
Be loyal to the ones you leave with even if you fail
Be chivalrous to strangers you meet along the road
As you take that holy ride, yourselves to know
You take that holy ride yourselves to know

—by Warren Zevon, from one of the stolen discs.