Review of the Punk, er, Gentleman/Woman Who Broke Into My Car And Stole My Stuff
June 9, 2007
I don’t have a lot of experience with the kind of people who break into cars and steal stuff. Well, actually, I’ve had various cars broken into over the years, but I’ve never actually MET the person who did the breaking in. Although, who among us hasn’t gone through a homeless, crackhead, carjacking stage?
It’s time we at the Random Reviewer pay more attention to this important demographic. They may not be the target audience of Studio 60 on Sunset Strip, but who knows? Maybe they’re our largest reading audience. So welcome to you all.
Last Thursday I met Elden and Brad at the mouth of Emigration Canyon for a mountain bike ride. We parked in the dirt parking lot/trailhead across from the Hogle Zoo, like I’ve been doing for rides several times a week since I started working downtown, a year ago.
When I returned to the car (94 Toyota Landcruiser), the front passenger window was missing. Well, not missing, exactly, but scattered and smashed all over the inside of my car, and all over the dirt outside my car. Some items besides the window were missing. Which is a relief, really, because I would hate for Bubba/Chico/Vladimir/Richard to have gone to all that effort for nothing. Not to mention being subjected to the danger of smashing a car window. Sounds like dangerous work. So a little booty was in order.
Let’s Review Stuff
First, the Method. You have to enjoy the smash and grab. Too many thieves these days go soft and only steal from unlocked cars, or even use some weeny gadget to get the car unlocked. You don’t get a lot of “grab a rock and smash the window” style anymore. It’s a dying art, like Cubism. Or maybe Cubism is already dead. I don’t know.
I like the smash and grab. It makes me feel like I’ve been through something manly, like I’ve been roughed up a little. It leaves a mark (and debris, of course). Like a hurricane—I feel like I should name it. I choose to name it Bubba/Chico/Vladimir/Richard/Coco.
And I give the smash portion of Bubba/Chico/Vladimir/Richard/Coco/Danny’s smash and grab 8 out of 10 hammers. Well played.
Location. Location means a lot in cases like this, especially when you consider the method. You might get more of the smash and grabs at night, or in huge parking lots packed with cars. But at a relatively busy trailhead, middle of day, only 5 or 6 cars? Not so much. Bubba/Chico/Vladimir/Richard/Coco/Danny/Famke has balls as big as church bells.
On the other hand, a demerit for dirt parking lot. If I had parked across the street, in the paved, more civilized Hogle Zoo parking lot, I’d add some points. So I’m going to call this a push. 5 out of 10 parking spaces.
How about Damage Inflicted? My car door was still attached, and even functional, but the window was completely demolished. And I found no large rocks nearby that might have been the tool of choice. So I’m flummoxed. What did Bubba/Chico/Vladimir/Richard/Coco/Danny/Famke/Lolo use? His/her elbow? Did he/she bring a hammer along? I like to think it was a massive head butt right to the center of the window, like I was being robbed by The Rock. That would be cool.
Anyway. The window was completely disintegrated, but the door still works. I had to get the window replaced (by my good friend Mario, who only has one name like a European soccer player), and discovered that a tiny bushing had cracked when the window shattered, so instead of just a $135 bill for the window, I had to order another $120 “regulator” since Toyota won’t sell you just the bushing.
So kudos for both the obvious smashed window, and for the hidden sneaky damage, and of course, having to spend an hour at the local carwash, vacuuming the car. Which actually is a good thing. Like my bikes, my car hasn’t been washed since I got it. 7 out of 10.
And finally, let’s rate the booty. Not the badonkadonk, but what they got away with. A 30 gig iPod ($399—at the time, not anymore of course), a Monster iPod radio transmitter thingy ($79), my Maui Jim Sport sunglasses ($199), and my Smiths Sliders ($125).
Oh yeah. And my PANTS. They took my pants, along with the UNDERWEAR still inside them. I can only guess they thought that I have excellent taste in cargo shorts. Or that they thought my wallet was in the pocket (it wasn’t).
And so yes, I spent the rest of the day in my bike shorts. Which aren’t as comfortable as you might think. Good for sitting on a bike seat, not so much an office chair. And isn’t this how people get yeast infections? Gross.
I’m going to give my new little friend 9 out of 10 clams for the booty. The sunglasses and iPod seem a little ordinary (and the iPod has “dug loves kim” inscribed on the back, a treat for any crackhead car thief), something they might get from any smash n grab. But it’s not every day you head butt a car window and walk away wearing someone else’s underwear and Old Navy cargo shorts. Kudos.
Overall, I’m going with 7 out of 10 crack pipes for my friend Guido the Killer Pimp. And a demerit for stealing my underwear along with the pants. Couldn’t Guido at least have gone commando?