When you live to be as old as dirt which is my age, you figure you must have seen it all. That’s why when I opened the kitchen door to step down three steps to the carport early Saturday morning, walked toward the driveway to go for my morning walk, noticed the empty space next to our pickup truck where the car was always parked, I wasn’t worried. Pretty must have parked it somewhere else, I thought. I looked around the front yard – both sides since we live on a corner lot – but decided I should go back in the house to double check with Pretty on the car’s whereabouts since I didn’t see it in any direction.
Pretty, still half asleep, had no clue. I stated the obvious. Somebody stole our car.
Thus, on the 14th. day of December, with only 17 days remaining in 2024, our year that will live in infamy had one final blow. We should never have agreed last week that 2024 had been a disastrous year and thank goodness it was behind us when there were 17 days left. Word to the wise: shut up. Life has a way of slapping you upside the head when you begin to make bold statements like that.
I won’t bore you with the police reports, Honda Link exploits, angst that we went through during the day Saturday trying to figure out how to cope with this fresher version of hell but will cut to the chase to say seven hours later we met two policemen in an abandoned construction site less than ten minutes from our house. One of them was dusting for fingerprints on the door handles, windows, steering wheel and seats of our 2018 Honda Odyssey which we had called our Grannymobile since we bought it in 2021 to be able to transport a second granddaughter.
Grannymobile found – contents lost
Two check books, two pay checks, Christmas gifts for friends and family, $35 in cash, small merchandise items for Pretty’s antique booths, phone chargers – all losses to chase around and down. But the emotionally charged missing things belonged to our granddaughters (five-year-old Ella and her sister Molly who will be three years old next month) who always felt at home on the second row of the Grannymobile with their favorite toys, blankets, small libraries of books and children’s videos. The car seats were their safe places, but Molly’s car seat had been stolen along with her beloved stuffed dinosaur that had seen better days.
When we saw the girls Saturday night, their parents had already told them about the stolen car so Ella was ready with her questions. How many “bandits” had taken the car? What did they look like? Why did they take it? All good questions that we couldn’t answer, but when we let the girls inspect the Grannymobile in their driveway, Molly’s first question was much more personal. Where are my toys? Did the police take my car seat?
Somehow in the recounting of the story of the stolen car, Molly was convinced the police took her car seat and Dino the Dinosaur. Nana tried to mollify Molly by assuring her we would get her a brand new car seat just like Ella’s, but Molly said she didn’t want a new one, she wanted her old one back. She said Naynay would make the police give it back. Of course I told her I would – I tried to unravel the confusion about the police and the “bandits” but in the end, that ship had sailed.
Stay safe during the holiday season. Car theft is alive and well and coming to a driveway near you, regardless of your age.
Please stay tuned.
I'll Call It Like I See It 
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