a CaR iS sToLeN (aGaIn)

My car was stolen. again.

I'll give you a minute to absorb that...it definitely took me more than that to realize and accept the fact that some hoods had again taken poor Sarge for a ride. About two weeks since the previous incident chronicled here, I was beginning to feel a little more comfortable about leaving him home alone. After all, he was clubbed after each use, so even if they rifled through him, they wouldn't be able to move the old man.  And I certainly did not add anything of value to him, or visit xhibit for a pimping. we were safe.

so i thought.

a monday evening coming home from work, contemplating food (as usual), I did my daily car glance. Nothing. I jumped into action, having experience, and immediately called my brother. No, of course he had not taken the car, and there, on the middle of the street I started bawling. Just the idea that someone, over the course of two weeks, had stolen my car TWICE, made me feel completely unsafe and violated. So, the police were called, and two young officers actually showed up this time in response to a 911 call.
Frustratingly enough, I had to watch them drive up and down the streets I am between, because they had no idea where my address was, even though I live around the corner from them. I finally had to flag them down on the corner, and they took me in the police car and drove me around looking for sarge. I made a joke about "not having been in one of these in awhile" and my audience, behind Plexiglas, was either deaf or unamused. We located the car not far from where it had been previously, and I had to get out in front of the entire neighborhood to attempt to reclaim him. I was terrified that someone would snipe me or something from a window up above. a little dramatic, i guess.

We were wondering how they moved the car - they clipped the steering wheel and cut the club off of it. Really?! For a 1988 Buick LeSabre? All that? Well, the car wouldn't start. I assumed the battery was dead, and I was forced to leave him there alone for two days until I could get a tow truck to come. During that time I had to pass him to and from the way to work, unable to help him to freedom.

When I was finally able to get a tow truck driver to come jump my battery, he pointed out that the battery wasn't dead - my keys are simply useless. I can start, and drive my car, by sticking a phillips head screwdriver into the steering column just so.  Luckily, the guys who borrowed it left me one in my armrest console.  So I stole back my own car, again, and got in the car and drove him to the safest part of brooklyn I could think of , in a heavily Hasidic Jewish neighborhood in Williamsburg.

Sarge is now safe upstate, nestled among the trees where he belongs. I'm not sure how much longer he'll make it, although he's only got 132,000 miles (yeah...read that odometer wrong, def not 300,000) and he runs quite smoothly, it feels strange to drive him now, knowing that someone else was blasting music in him, or sitting in his multicolored seats. We'll see what happens, but for now, he deserves a location, and dIaMoNd is considering relocating....to williamsburg.

oh, and those motherfuckers stole my teapot.


Much love... <>*$dIaMoNd*$<>