An insult to injury

I still own a car and her name is Inga Beep the Jeep. I have not moved her in months but have visited her every other week or so to start her engine long enough to keep the winter-month paralysis from killing her completely. The plan has always been to wait until the ice thaws and the snow melts and then drive her one last time to whichever business is willing to take her off my hands. So while we have that one last ride around the block together, for all intents and purposes, Inga Beep the Jeep has signaled, moved over, and exited for the Big Interstate in the Sky.

This morning, I went outside to our parking lot to start Inga, hoping that the warmer weather had helped the heart in her engine to keep beating. When I reached her, however, I found her back door unlatched. I opened the front door to discover the dashboard had been broken and the CD player/stereo had been stolen. The glove compartment was left open and that, combined with the opened back door, drained the battery. Though I’m tempted to think the battery wasn’t drained but rather removed. (I’ll have to check under her hood later to confirm this.)

Those of you who have known me for awhile may recall that this is not the first time Inga has been violated. A few years ago, someone smashed one of her windows to steal 20 CDs, a sleeping bag, and my LL Bean tent. And those with exceptional memory skills will remember that the genius who stole my property managed to take every part of the tent EXCEPT the poles. For the camping-challenged out there, that’s sort of the equivalent of someone stealing a dustpan but leaving behind the broom.

Discovering the tent poles, for me, was a bittersweet moment because, although I knew the thief could never use the tent, the poles were a constant reminder that neither could I. This morning, I felt the same bittersweet feeling. And now, as I sit here with the bitter taste of victimization in my mouth, my small but sweet consolation is the thief’s expression I imagine will cross his/her face at the realization that, although expensive and fancy, the CD player hasn’t worked for more than a year.