Dude, Where’s My Car? Seriously, Where Is My Car?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I like looking at statistics. Finding out I have become one is rather less intriguing.

Last night, I happened to notice my car as my wife were talking on our porch. This morning, I happened to notice that a different car was parked in the place where I left my car on Tuesday. After checking the lot to make sure I was not simply I had not simply been mistaken, I received that sick feeling in my gut, realizing that someone else liked my car as well, enough to acquire it during the night.

I did all the expected things, calling the police and insurance and the EZ-Tag people. Naturally, since my car was getting old and had a lot of miles on it, I had dropped the full coverage a couple years earlier, getting by with just Liability and UM coverage, so that means I get nothing for the loss. Just swell.

It also means that I have to keep checking my bank and credit card accounts regularly, to be sure that I didn’t accidentally leave something in the car that can come back and cause more problems. Like anyone else in this situation, I did not need this in my life, and whatever I do next, will end up being expensive and annoying. New cars are obscenely expensive, and buying a used car almost assures one of collecting a new set of less-than-appealing qualities with the car, even if one spends a great deal of car and attention trying to get the right one. And even if, by some mercy from God, I actually get my old Honda back, I have no illusions that the thieves will have been kind to it, or left everything as it should be. Worse, more than a few people have told me that my particular year and model is prized, ordinary as it looks, for its hard-to-find parts. Hardly a cheering thought.

What’s it mean? I couldn’t say just now. Maybe later I will come up with some witty insight that makes it relevant to politics or the day’s events, but for now I am focused on an immediate and personal need, and everything else must bide.