Beach Burglary

They say "third time's a charm." And certainly my third trip to the Atlantic, this year, could vie for gold.

Walking out onto the beach at sunset was perfect. I could easily detect the smell of salt in the air. The rushing waves invited me and I loved being able to slip off my flops and dig my toes into the soft white sand. The complicated waters and I were adjoined.

But after pacing the along the edge of the ocean for about an hour, running into friendly foreigners, and taking snaps of the sea, I was ready to return to my friends' house for a good night's rest.

There was just one problem.

I couldn't find my car...anywhere.

Up and down the parking lot, I looked for my little box with wheels. The fact that my automatic key lock doesn't work except within about 2 feet of the car didn't help. For a moment, I worried. Could I really have forgotten where I parked?

No, No, I convinced myself, the parking meter and hotel was just right, even the sign for accessing the public beach was in the right patch of grass.

I called my friend Sarah, after about 15-20 minutes of torturous looking (and did I mention a public bathroom was nowhere in sight?). I informed her I thought my car might have been taken. I followed with a call to the police, who apparently sent the beach security to my rescue...I still can't figure out why it took him 2o minutes to get to me if he was that close.

I gave him all the information I could about car. I showed him my driver's license, a card that had my VIN number on it, and described what it looked like. Sarah arrived and helped me think of things to tell the officer. I kept browsing the lot to see if it was around. And Sarah's husband, John, kept calling every five minutes to make sure we were all ok.

All the while, in the depths of my brain; I started thinking that I really just didn't care. The car was gone. Someone had been smart enough to break into it and start it up. How? I hadn't the faintest clue, the most I could ever do was change my oil- but nevertheless, it was gone and I didn't care.

Perhaps it was because I knew I'd be taken care of; receiving more than I owed from the insurance company was sure thing and a new car wouldn't be so bad. A car with my name on it and new beginning- out with the memories the old Honda held. Plus-my friends cruise my dream car around (who-ever heard of a jeep wrangler being one's "dream drive?"), there was always a shot at that!

Finally the police officer finished jotting down notes and said that a police report would ready for me the next day. Sarah and I looked at each other and asked the guy if it was really going to be a priority investigation. His facial expression told me no.

Too many drug dealers, murders and rapists to chase, I suppose.

Sarah and I said thanks and hopped into the jeep. We buzzed through the parking lot, one last time. I actually hoped it wasn't a fluke....crazy indeed. As we approached the end of the parking lot, there it was, my car- dirty and beat up, waiting for me. I couldn't believe it- I had one blond hair after all. Feeling a little embarrassed and really disappointed; I called the officer back and let him know he did not need to file a report.

I got in and started the engine. Driving back to my friend's house I decided it was probably better that I found it, I wouldn't have the hassle of paperwork.

It's ironic: in the past, a stressful situation like this one would have been an emotional crisis. I've had so many car dilemmas that I never felt confident enough about a solution. But this time, it was different, there was not a doubt in my mind that I would be cared for and assisted. Not only that; it would have been a chance for something new, in so many ways, and I would have certainly welcomed the change.

Of course, it is a "tard moment" that John and Sarah will never let me live down. =P