So You’re Thinking About Breaking Into My Car.
We should probably get something out of the way right off the bat. LOOK at my car. Does it look like the vehicle of a person with money? Your eyes do not deceive you. That big dent in the side where an asshole stove my door in and drove off without leaving a note? It has been there for three years, because I am not rich. Eating and paying bills took precedence over getting a door ding taken out. My decision was made easier when I realized that the cost to bang that dent out would cost me more than my car is actually now worth. Its Kelley Blue Book value is “Pay the buyer $50 to haul it off.”
Let’s say you are really jonesing for some crack and don’t care that I probably do not have a hidden bag of gold tucked under the passenger seat. You want some delicious narcotic goodness, and there’s a chance there might be something worth selling inside my beat-up old car. You’re willing to take that chance!
Here’s a handy guide to what is actually in my car:
- Home-burned CDs in unmarked paper sleeves. Not only are these guaranteed to have NO music whatsoever that you might like (or even have heard of), you certainly couldn’t get anyone to buy them from you. They won’t even play unless your CD player reads MP3 files.
- An ancient and frayed beach towel. I have a pet.
- A bag of trash. Last time someone broke into my car, they felt compelled to dig to the bottom of my trash can and scatter the contents all over my car. Allow me to save you the trouble: It really is just a bag of trash. There’s room for more trash in it, or it would be just an empty bag.
- A bunch of old maps–including maps for parts of the country we are not currently in–that are over 10 years old. The local maps may or may not acknowledge that we built a parkway and a new bridge twenty years ago. You can no longer cut through half the neighborhoods on the map, and that college has also closed the thoroughfare that used to cut 20 minutes off your travel time when going to the beach. I don’t go to the part of town with the new roads often but when I do, I know where I am going, thus I don’t need a newfangled map with accurate roads on it. I need a map for the part that hasn’t changed for 200 years and has a lot of one-way streets. I need it because locals expect me to know all the squares and one-way streets in this city by heart and I do not. If you go anywhere in town that does not include historic buildings, the map will not help you.
- A phone book from 5 years ago. I thought I threw that out.
- An opened bottle of water. It is probably teeming with germs by now. Again, I have a pet. They get thirsty.
- Napkins, unused but old and grody.
- An ancient French fry that fell in the one space I can’t reach from any angle directly between my seat and the console. It taunts me.
- A bottle of someone else’s lavender-scented hand lotion. You can have that.
- A bike light that used to flash a little red LED light and look somewhat like an alarm system, but it doesn’t work anymore. Which is why you contemplated breaking into my car.
- The cheapest CD player stereo known to man, which only fits into about a dozen different vehicle types, most of which probably already have shitty stereos in them and thus do not need MY shitty stereo. I’m just saying. It is so cheap and useless, I don’t even bother hiding the faceplate.
- A lighter that does not work 99% of the time.
- 9 cents. One penny is pretty torn up, actually…so, 8 cents.
- Two books, neither of which any self-respecting busy homie or Trustafarian white-boy-dreads-wearing drug dealer is going to be interested in. Old white people geneology? No. Crytography? Pretty sure the answer is still “no.”
- One of those obnoxious free newspapers that wind up turning into mulch on my lawn if I don’t fish them out of the shrubs the asshats — who pretend they don’t understand me when I call and say “Stop with the fucking PennySavers, I don’t even look at them” — threw them into.
- Clove cigarette butts in the ashtray, because littering sucks and sometimes I want to smoke in my own damn car, so eff you, Judgy McJudgerson.
- A dead frog carcass left by a frog that managed to break into my car and then wedge itself down at the base of my rear window before dying and drying out. I haven’t found a tool thin enough to fish it out. It makes me both sick and sad. (If you do break into my car, can you try to remove it? That would be great.)
Well, that was disappointing. How about the trunk? Any fantastic stuff hiding in there? Alas, no.
- Micro-tire and useless jack. Dude, I can’t even afford a full-sized spare tire. Take a hint.
- A “help, I broke down” road kit. Retail price: $6 new at Pep Boys. It is not new.
- A wooden crate thing with homemade mix-tape cassettes in it. Yes, cassettes. Even though I no longer have access to a car cassette player.
- An ice scraper (there you are, ice scraper!) that might possibly get used down here once every ten years or so.
- A tiny gas can in case I run out of gas, something I have never once done. (I had a roommate who ran out of gas pretty much every other week, because she was lazy and hated pumping gas after work. Her gauges worked just fine. I have never understood that.)
- A zippered bag with more homemade cassettes. You will hate every note of every song on each and every one of these, assuming you even have a cassette player and assuming you can read my handwriting.
Hey, didn’t look in the glove box! Man, you are in for a treat.
Contents of glove box:
- Every registration or tag or insurance-related piece of correspondence I have ever gotten pertaining to this car. These will do you no good whatsoever. They don’t even do ME any good, but I don’t know where else to put them.
- A fairly useless car manual.
- An even more useless car stereo manual that has no instructions about how to get it to stop flashing “DEMO” at me.
- $1 thrift store sunglasses (unfashionable, bent).
- A couple of dead pens.
- A couple of dead batteries; AA, leaky.
- A notepad, used.
- A paperclip (small, rusty).
- Menus, some from restaurants that went out of business five years or more ago, and which are not local.
- A tire gauge, probably broken.
- A mini-flashlight that I suspect does not work.
- An emery board.
- A crumpled pack of limp matches.
- Non-functional cigarette lighter, thrown into glove box in fit of pique.
- Useless old receipts for stuff I don’t remember buying.
In short, if you break into my car, you’re going to cost me a couple hundred bucks I can’t afford (because I will have to replace my window) just to make off with a bunch of shit that you might, if you are lucky, be able to pay someone else to throw away for you. There will be no cracky goodness.
We should also get serious for a minute. Your impulsive decision to ruin my day and break my stuff could end up REALLY fucking up YOUR day.
Check this out: Georgia Code – Crimes and Offenses – Title 16, Section 16-7-1:
(a) A person commits the offense of burglary when, without authority and with the intent to commit a felony or theft therein, he enters or remains within the dwelling house of another or any building, vehicle, railroad car, watercraft, or other such structure designed for use as the dwelling of another or enters or remains within any other building, railroad car, aircraft, or any room or any part thereof. A person convicted of the offense of burglary, for the first such offense, shall be punished by imprisonment for not less than one nor more than 20 years. For the purposes of this Code section, the term ‘railroad car’ shall also include trailers on flatcars, containers on flatcars, trailers on railroad property, or containers on railroad property.
(b) Upon a second conviction for a crime of burglary occurring after the first conviction, a person shall be punished by imprisonment for not less than two nor more than 20 years. Upon a third conviction for the crime of burglary occurring after the first conviction, a person shall be punished by imprisonment for not less than five nor more than 20 years. Adjudication of guilt or imposition of sentence shall not be suspended, probated, deferred, or withheld for any offense punishable under this subsection.
HOLY FUCK! You could go to jail for at least a year or as long as TWENTY YEARS just for stealing a bunch of worthless crap from a person too poor to fix the ugly dents on her shitty vehicle.
Between you and me: breaking rocks and rooming with Bubba the Buttpirate is not worth it, my friend. Not even for some delicious crack…not that you’ll be able to sell any of my worthless shit for drugs. No one wants or needs it.
Please don’t break my window. I’ll have to not eat for a few weeks to pay to fix it. It keeps the rain out. It’s kind of important.
Also, by the time you finally managed to read all of this, the surveillance cameras on the nearby buildings have gotten an excellent view of you. Smile, you’re on Candid Camera!
Look at Your Life. Look at Your Choices.