The Car Gets Stolen - Part 1

Meh.

Ok, I get it already.

I have been chastised by my reader base (if a handful of people count as a base) that I am indulging too much in the snarky mockery of others ("smug" and "superior" were bandied around) and not staying true of heart to my blog, which is to explain why you should be happy you are not me. Even though I enjoy mocking others (as long as they are stupid and/or evil), I will rein it for the sake of the kinder folken and wallow in my own cautionary tales.

Clearly enough bad hasn't happened to me recently that I have enough energy to be cruel to others and I have been encouraged to look into my past for material to bring joy to others. I'll only snark regarding my own exploits.

In theory.

So, let me see... what can I write about?

How about the time my car got stolen?

This story is what I used to tell first dates to see if I could scare them off easily, or whether they had the "right stuff." You'll see why.

So to set the stage. It is early February, 1990, I have just moved into my Capital Hill apartment a few days earlier (not even a phone yet) and have my "new" used 1979 Toyota Celica (the "Car From Hell" as it will be to all in short time) purchased from my friend a few weeks earlier. Life is puttering along when suddenly a big, major snow storm hits Seattle. Pretty much shuts the town down for a week. We are talking snow drift quantities of snow in the parking lot. I'd have to shovel my car out and given the weather, I am perfectly happy to let it sit. This is winter in Narnia. Not the usual wussy inch or two of Seattle.

I live close enough to Aldus Corporation, where I am a software tester, that I can shuffle my way in on foot. Aldus is located in Pioneer Square and I am on the north side of the hill, so it is a bit of a walk, but do-able. So I shlepp into work.

After getting there, I am getting into the routine of things and I get a call from my friend whom I had bought the Toyota.

"Your car's been stolen and is in Bellingham, Washington," he said.

"Huh?" I replied.

He repeated his assertion.

"Naw, man," I scoff, "it's under like two feet of snow in the parking lot. The lot is an ice rink. There is no way it can be my car."

He went on to explain that the cops pulled over some guy driving my car and that since his parents hold the title (it was still being transferred to me), they got the call about 3 am letting them know the story. At this point, I am still unconvinced, but take down the contact number anyway. So I go home that night and visit the lot. All the cars were there with snow covering them and the lot a sheet of ice.

All the cars except for mine. To this day I have no idea how he got the car out.

So I go into work the next day and call the Bellingham cop who arrested the guy. Turns out that he's off-shift and I explain my deal to another cop who answers and he says don't sweat. All I need to do is come and collect the car. I do need to have a stolen car report filed in Seattle and bring identification. Not a problem I think and make arrangements to catch a bus up to Bellingham. My sister, who lives there can pick me up and she'll take me to the cop shop.

So the next day I shuffle back down to Aldus and during my lunch I walk up to the Municipal building (Cop Shop Central) and look at the directory for something like "Stolen Car Department", but alas no luck there. I ask a clerk and am told that I have to call "911" to report the car stolen. I am sort of confused because I think of "911" as something like life and death and well, my car is not a crisis. Annoying sure, but not an emergency. But clearly the Muni building is a non-starter. I head back to Aldus. I pass by a bakery and true to cliche there is a cop eating a doughnut in his prowl car. I walk up (probably a little too brazenly based on his rather "I have a gun" reaction) and after stepping back a few steps to appease him, explain my story.

"Sorry," he says, "you gotta call 911 so it can get into the system." He then rolls his window back up. I am stunned. Clearly the guy has the report and can fill it out on the spot for me. This 911 business is rather bizarre. I felt like the Riddler, from the old Batman show, "Riddle me this, Batman... When is a life and death emergency, not a life or death emergency? When it is a stolen car 90 miles away! Get it?" He looked at me bored.

"See you in ten minutes then, " I huff and stalk off back to Aldus. I make the call and sure enough this 911 thing is legit. I then go wait in the lobby. About ten minutes later, Officer Doughnut swaggers in.

"Oh, it's you?" He says somewhat un-engaged. "I thought you were a flake."

"Uh huh," I mumble. I then tell him the story. He decides this is best if we do this in his patrol car. So I find myself sitting in the back of the cop car and all my co-workers are streaming in and out of the building peering in and each registers "Hey, I know that guy..." in their faces as they pass. Yep, can't think of a better way to start rumors.

So he asks me a ton of questions about the car and where I live, etc. I tell him all the info and in the end he gives me a piece of pink NCR paper and wishes me good luck. "Thanks," I say and saunter back to work.

The next day I catch a bus to Bellingham, Little did I know this was only the warm up round.