Whoda Thunk It?

My car was stolen from my home last week.  It's 12 years old, but a good car for me.  I know all of its little quirks, but even those are few.  Convinced it was stolen for parts and gone forever, I was getting in the mindset for the purchase of a new vehicle.

The sheriff's office called last night to let me know my car was picked up on the other side of the Big City.  "Is it drive-able?"  "I don't know," said the voice on the other end of my phone.  "Do I need a tow truck?" - again, "I don't know."  Outside of the conversation with the sheriff's department, I'm glad the Big City PD's access to the state's database worked and had recovered it within a week.

How the thugs started my car

How the losers got into my car.

It looks like little hoodlums took my blueberry out for a joy ride.  They trashed the contents, and didn't take anything but a down vest my in-laws gave me for Christmas last year.

I am blessed.  I despise thieves and liars, but I am blessed.