A thief in the day

Yesterday, between seven and nine pm, the old 1993 gold Saturn I bought new when my son was born was stolen from the covered spot right in front of the apartment in which my wife and I live. We could look out and see it there. California, Utah, Oregon—26 years old.

The sun hadn’t even set. People walked their dogs and kids around the place. Someone with balls the size of grapefruit had the audacity to steal that old, nearly worthless car.

God Damn It.

And the only thing of value in the whole car was a geode I’d saved from a dig with the family back in 2003 in Delta, Utah. The size of a robin’s egg, this geode represented the “thing” I was going to save until my last breath when I’d say to my kids, “let’s see what’s inside this, shall we?” It had rattled around in the ashtray for 16 years.

The Universe is absurd, indifferent and oblivious.

Yup, it sure is.

 


10 thoughts on “A thief in the day

  1. Fucking hell. I swear to the powers that be, there is something in the stars. This hurts my heart. We’ve discussed this, I think, how we realize how little we really need when we are forced to live without.
    But there are those few precious things we treasure that wouldn’t mean a damn thing to anyone else, and it seems like a blatant fuck you from the universe when they are taken from us.
    I’m not even going to do something maddening like try to extract a positive perspective or silver lining. I’m just going to say, that fucking sucks and I wish I could rewind the scene and have been leaning on the trunk of your car with my steel tip boots on, sharpening my knife. I don’t have steel tip boots or a knife, but I would go buy some just so I could lean against your trunk and dare that fucker to even think about it.
    Sending love and a big conciliatory hug.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. […wraps arms about one’s self and imagines the love and warmth…]
      […then stands back from the spike-nubbed gloves, the scuffed Doc Martins and the butterfly in the belt-clip…]

      Simple treasures stranded on distant shores. Were you and I there to rediscover them,
      Though, I imagine, best to kick the nearest sand and select a fresh trinket for fond keeping. I see one there beneath the toe of your boot.

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  2. Then there’s the cosmos in motion theory telling you that the next time you drove it the flywheel would shatter and cause a rollover that took outwhoever was driving and three others, and the lesson we all learn too late if we’re not paying attention – that nobody values our memories. The thing we think are precious end up in the dump or Goodwill or a resale shop. Worse, strangers parade through your house and offer $10 for the set of your mother’s gold rimmed Mikasa “dress” service set you were too big a pussy to take to Goodwill yourself. Or your father’s lucky silver dollar, carried so long he practically wore the face off of it and your custom arrowhead boy scout neckerchief slide. I empathize with the feeling of rape and anger, been there. But stuff is just stuff. Be glad you’re not paying liability only on the clunker anymore while you wait for it to die.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. There had been the relief of its disappearance, no doubt. The proximity and chutzpah shown was too much to shoulder, though. “Fuck, I could have spit on the dude’s head had I seen him in action.” That close.

      I plan to write a note and keep it affixed to the inside of the window:
      “To the cad with copper cahones who stole this car: where is my goddamn geode?”

      Liked by 1 person

      1. They steal pre 95 because the ignition switches are cake. Or they worked at a GM dealership and picked up a master. I “knew a guy” who knew a guy who worked at Morris Chevrolet who gave the first guy a series F or something GM master that opened and started a majority of anything he tried it on. Many models over several years. GTOs being a favorite.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Exactly right. Incentive enough, I suppose, to own a more modern auto. There are literally 100 Mercedes, Lexus, BMW, etc. luxury vehicles in this complex. They don’t get stolen. Just my old, easy to steal, GM antique.

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