I’m as surprised as you are that there’s still more to say about my car
So yeah, I get it. Does anyone really want to hear yet another installment of my car theft(s) saga? (Psst, if you’re just catching up, here’s Part I in which my stolen car was recovered filled with a panoply of sad items worthy of a novel, and Part II in which, inexplicably, my ruined car was stolen again). A few months ago, it would never have occurred to me that I’d ever have enough to say about my 1997 Honda Accord to justify three Medium stories. Hell, at this point, I’m just one or two anecdotes away from a ridiculously-narrow memoir about a girl and her ill-fated car.
So anyway… One week after the events described in the last story, in which I awoke to find my stolen-then-recovered car had been stolen again, I received a message from the Portland Police saying my car had been recovered (again). I called back, and after some confusion with the police non-emergency line, someone was able to confirm that the car had been found abandoned at a corner in NE Portland, only about 70 blocks from my house and I was welcome to call AAA and have it towed, which I did. They said the tow truck would be there within the hour.
As the car currently has no license plates, the AAA operator suggested I bring some ID and proof of ownership when I went to meet the tow truck driver. I was less than a week into my new job, and I felt a little bad skipping out to go meet the tow truck, but what else was I going to do? So when I got the text saying he was about 10 minutes away, I headed over in our other (now only) car, bringing the old license plates and a notebook with the police report information. That would be enough to prove I was the owner, I figured. Of course, it was only when I got there I realized I also needed the car key, which I had taken off my key chain back back when the car was pronounced totaled — it was now hanging on a hook by the door at my house. Great.
The car was unlocked, and looked exactly as it had when I cleaned out Corissa’s junk after the first theft. I was surprised not to see any sign of anyone else’s belongings or mess, and I can only assume the thief drove it til it died, maybe using the car to get high, then pulled over and abandoned it. This theory was backed up by the fact that there were cobwebs on the back bumper.
Anyway, the tow truck came, but of course, I had no key and it had no plates so he wouldn’t tow it. And my husband couldn’t bring me the key because he didn’t have a car. So I bid farewell to the tow truck driver and drove home, after literally standing in the middle of the street and screaming at the sky in frustration that I had wasted all that time driving to meet the tow truck for nothing.
Plan B was instead of calling AAA again, my husband and I would drive over with the key, and see if it started. If it did, we could put on the plates and I would carefully limp along driving it home with him following. But of course, nothing related to this car could possibly go right, so even though it had been (barely) drive-able when stolen, it was now completely dead. So we drove back home together and ordered a new tow.
By now, I was feeling pretty frustrated, and wanted to get back to work so that my entire day was not a write-off dealing with my non-functional car. I was thrilled to have a new job, and didn’t want to waste an entire day away from my computer. My husband agreed to go back for Tow 2.0, and so he did, and within an hour, my sad Accord was back home at the curb.
We’re still waiting for the salvage title, and without a title, we can’t sell it or donate it, even for scrap. So there it will stay, until… I don’t know what comes next. An anvil falls out of the sky and crushes it? Once upon a time, I hoped to sell it for a few hundred bucks to a mechanic. Now I’m thinking we’ll either donate it for the tax writeoff or sell it to a pick-and-pull lot. I just want it gone (but of my own volition, not via another theft!).
Am I angry? I should be really angry, right? On July 30, I went to bed with my fully-functional car in the driveway, one that I had spent thousands on for a rebuilt engine just two years ago, and now, here I am with no car. Of course I’m angry that some asshole stole my car, and I’m sad that a homeless woman (and her kids?) lived in it for 11 days, and I’m bemused that it was stolen again, and I am frustrated that it is beyond repair and now I don’t have a car. But the funny thing is, I’m just not built for ongoing grudges and anger. Not to be all hashtag-blessed about it, but I do recognize how lucky I am to have a home and a new job (and thanks to the pandemic, not even a real need for a car right now).
If this experience has taught me anything, it’s that the theory that people’s general temperament is hard-wired is really true. In general, I’m an optimist. I can’t say why I am — brain chemistry? Luck of the draw? I just know that someday I’ll get a new (used) car and my life will go on. But Jesus Fucking Christ, I am ready for 2020 to be over. Worst. Year. Ever.