Crime Time

If I'm ever chosen for jury duty and asked if I've ever been the victim of a crime when interviewed by one of the attorneys, I'll have to say yes. Twice. Though both crimes were slightly odd affairs. And both involved cars.

When I was in college I had a 1966 Ford Fairlane 500, which cost me all of $600 and ran for two years before it threw a rod. (Right through the engine block, but that's another story.) One semester I was taking a night class, and when I walked out to the school's parking lot (I commuted to school, since it was only five minutes from our house) I noticed one thing immediately, even though it was night time and pretty dark: both of my car doors were wide open.

"I didn't leave it that way," I said to myself. (If you're thinking I had a 4.0 GPA, think again.) As I got closer, I noticed the hood was slightly open, too.

Someone had ripped both speakers out of the doors, cheap ass things that had come with the car and weren't hooked to anything. That same someone, presumably, had also stolen the wingnut — the wingnut! — that held down my air cleaner.

I wanted the guy to get caught just so I could ask him why.

Years later, someone broke into my Mazda Miata — maybe "broke into" isn't accurate, since the top was down — when it was in my driveway, and stole the ashtray. At first I thought he'd stolen it for the change I kept in it for tolls and parking meters (probably all of $3), but when I went to the dealer for a replacement I learned the real reason: a new ashtray was $80.

Seeing the look on my face, the guy behind the parts counter asked, "Do you smoke?" When I told him I didn't, he suggested I live without an ashtray.

I should have asked him about the prices of wingnuts.