It's over

Three weeks after the drama started, it's over. Got word from the insurance company today that a check is being cut for the cost of the stolen car. Now comes the hard part, finding a replacement. The top two candidates are a 2002 Escape and a 2000 Intrepid. Am not sure which way to go yet.

It was only a car ... wasn't it?

This happened a week ago today and I am still a little stunned by it all. I had been invited to speak to a group of retired coaches, educators, officials and writers about my book "162-0" at a luncheon at DeGidios, a nifty restaurant on the edge of downtown St. Paul. I knew this was a friendly crowd. In fact, I had worked games at one time or another with several people in there.

When I had arrived at DeGidios, the parking lot was full. That's unusual but not unprecedented. Douglas St next to the restaurant looked fairly open. So were the side streets. I could park there and have just a short walk in and back from the restaurant.

I parked on Douglas and walked in. No problem so far.

The lunch was terrific. The speech seemed to go well. I sold several books afterwards.

I walked back outside thinking life was pretty good.

Until ...

I walked up on Douglas and couldn't find my car. I thought for a second. Didn't I park here by this big tree? Or did I decide to go back on the side street? I walked back and forth. No gray 2003 Alero could be seen. What the hell happened?

Or, as the youth of today are wont to text, OMG.

I walked slowly up Douglas pondering what to do. Then I saw a sign I had missed before. It was behind a hanging tree branch but it was clear as day "NO PARKING 6 a.m. - 6 p.m."

Nuts. I parked in the wrong area. Damn thing got towed.

I sighed and called the general police number. After a couple of false starts, I finally got to somebody who could help me. She checked their lists and told me, "No, we didn't ticket or tow you." Just in case, though, she gave me the impound number. I called that number. No, they didn't have my car, either.

Now what? I thought of Joe, my insurance guy ,but couldn't remember his number. I didn't have it among my cell phone regular calls. I walked back into DeGidios and asked the bartender for a phone book. She looked at me incredulously, saying"Oh, we throw all those away. Sorry."

I sighed. I called my wife, my sister-in-law and a friend to see if they could look up his number on the internet for me.

No luck. None of them were in their office.

So I gritted my teeth and called Directory Assistance from my cell phone. The first woman sent me in a direction I knew was wrong. I knew Joe's phone number started with a 6. I tried again and this time, got the correct number. Talked to Joe and he gave me a few numbers to call to get the ball rolling. he then told me to call the police back and get a report started.

I did so. The woman at the desk was a bit incredulous but agreed (reluctantly, it seemed to me) to send a car out. I walked back and forth on Douglas, hoping my car would re-appear.

No luck. In due time, the officer came and took down my stuff. She was very nice and comforting. Turned out we had a mutual acquaintance. Turned out further we both had tickets to the Twins' game the next night. We took a quick tour around the area to see if the car had simply been moved to another area and abandoned.

No luck. She gave a ride home, causing quite a stir in the hood. My neighbor told his wife, "Either he has been in an accident or somebody stole his car." Smart man.

I called the insurance people. First things first, They arranged to get me a rental car and told me I could keep it for up the three weeks. I was then asked what of value was in my now-gone car.

I thought for a second. "Not much. Just a few cds," I said. But then I thought some more. I had bought new tires in March. There were a couple of books in the trunk. There was an autographed baseball as well. Fortunately, I had taken my golf clubs out a day or two before. Sometimes I leave my checkbook in there, But this wasn't one of those days. Still, the losses added up a bit.

Then I remembered something else. Before I went to lunch, I had purchased a lottery ticket and placed it in the visor. The bastards not only had my car but they might have riches beyond their (and mine) wildest dreams. If true, how cold I prove otherwise?

Tyler, my national contact, laughed when I told him that. "That's a new one for me," he said. But then he told me not to worry. I could always go back to the store where it was bought to prove where it came from. Now where was that again ...? (Proved not to be so. At least not a big one.)

Tyler sent me a lot of forms, though and I went to work filling them out. He told me I had to wait a week to file things. That's today so the paperwork express is now in full gear.

What happens from here is fairly straightforward. The insurance company declares the car was worth a certain amount of money. They buy it from me and we move on. The car has probably been chopped to pieces already. I may have seen parts of my car go by me the last couple of days and not even know it.

Of course, the car can and will be replaced. But the fact is I liked that car very much. It was the first brand new car I had ever purchased. (Had 40 miles on it when I bought it.) It had been reliable in winter and summer. The MPG was very good. It was comfortable. As the saying goes, they don't make 'me like that anymore. (Absolutely true. Aleros are no longer built.) I will miss that car a lot.

I can buy more CDs. It will be costly and irritating but it can be done. I can get more books. The material things can and will be replaced.

Life will go on.

But there is still this terrible realization. Somebody now knows where I live. They know my taste in music. They will probably discover a receipt or two I had forgotten about. So they know where I like to go to eat and drink. This information is not that hard to find. But I would prefer to be the one who gives that info out.

There is a SOB (or DOB - sadly, such thievery is not restricted by gender) who stole a part of my life last week. Worse, I can't do a damn thing about it. Family and friends have remarked how well I have taken this intrusion. Turns out I may have faking it fairly well. Fact is, I am really ticked off about this. It was an uncivil, unkind and simply unfair thing to do. I think I hate the person who did this and really do wish him (her) ill will.

As crimes, I understand this is small potatoes compared to murders, assaults and robberies. I am not trying to overstate the loss or make a bad comparison.

But I can't help saying something that I thought I would never say this about a material item.

I feel violated.