Then one day I squeegeed my rear window while getting gas and I watched in horror as the combination of Windex and black road dirt amalgamated and ran down my white paint job like a melting tar baby. I grabbed a few paper towels, dipped them in the Windex solution, and tried rubbing off the black stains. Which did absolutely nothing.
That was six months ago.
Road dirt caked on the back, bird poop caked on the front—the handles to the truck actually started turning color from dirty hands. Before I knew it, I was driving the Clampett car. My parents started asking me to "park around back" when I came to visit. It took an altercation at Lenox Mall involving a Sprite being aimed at me and landing on my car instead and the sugar crystals stuck to my windows and doors for me to finally relent and wash it. Total water ban be damned.Each wipe of the sponge on the hood revealed a truck three shades lighter underneath. An hour later, I had my truck back. Even the scratches and dents didn't seem so bad anymore; I was impressed.
So were the thieves. They broke into my truck that night.
They tore open my glove box and center console. They took my CDs and splayed them all over the front seat. Apparently the only thing of value I kept in my truck was the two quarters I kept in the change slots for the toll. All that work and the potential for jail time, and they took exactly 50 cents. Not the 6-disc CD changer, or the CD player, or my book of at least 50 CDs. Not the car registration or my bottle of Ralph Lauren 's Romance. Not even my package of Reese's Pieces. But two quarters that won't even afford a can of Coke.
Moral of the story: Hoodlums don't break into dirty cars.
4 comments:
Actually, that little gift shop-sized place on the ground floor sells can drinks for exactly $0.50. So maybe they knew that and really wanted a Coke. Or, as they clearly weren't Butch Walker fans, they were mentally deficient.
oh shit, that bites!
They must have a different breed of car breaker-inner over there than we have around here. when we lived in the valley my POS Tracer hatchback got broken into three different times and I never washed the sonuvabitch.
Must have a better class of criminals or something!
Still sucks, nonetheless. the last time my car got broken into I wanted to burn down the apartment complex a couple of blocks away. I knew, just knew, the filthy scumbags lived there. But instead I made a huge sign and planted it in my yard, which also cursed them to herpes or something. I highly recommend getting a gypsy involved if you can.
For this reason, I do not, as a rule, wash my car, nor do I keep the inside terribly pristine, though I'm better than I used to be. Still, it's great camouflage. These days, I also have toys and empty juice boxes strewn about the back, and stickers on the window. It drives the point home: My car is a POS, and I have kids, so I've really got nothing of value.
RHS: In Atlanta, there are enough high-end cars and people in close proximity to the unwashed masses that thieves can afford to be picky.
Though, having seen the vehicle in question, they're not very bright thieves. Sorry, dear, if it makes you feel any better, your POS cleans up better than my POS.
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