I didn't hear anything about the car for a few days. Wednesday was the day that the police told me to give up on ever getting it back. By Wednesday evening, I figured that the car was gone for good. But then, something pretty strange happened. A Huntington Woods (the city I live in) police car pulled up to my house and came to the door. They handed my dad a piece of paper with a name and phone number of a cop in Philadelphia that said the car had been found. I called the number several times, but he was never there. The last time I called he was gone for the day.
I was really excited when I got the news. I didn't really care what kind of shape the car was in, just as long as my stuff was there. My favorite clothes, tons of tapes, some set lists, some pictures, and stuff like that, were all in the car. The fact that they found the car gave me some hope back that my stuff would be returned. I tried not to get my hopes up though, the last thing I needed was yet another disappointment.
The next day I called the cop again. Fortunately he was there this time. He told me that my car had been found, and asked if there was anyone that could come pick it up. I was amazed, maybe the car's not badly damaged, so I asked him if it was drivable. He said, "Yeah... It's drivable... But they took off the hatch (trunk), and the front doors, and the side door..." How a car that has no doors or a trunk is drivable, I don't know.
He said that someone had to come pick it up within a couple days or it would be impounded, so we arranged for Jackie's dad to go get it. (Talk about generous!) As it turned out, it wasn't neccessary. Our insurance agent had a dealership there go and pick it up on Saturday.
All weekend long I didn't know what the shape of my car was (besides that it lacks doors) or whether my stuff was there. Finally, Monday, the guy from the dealership called. My dad and I figured that the car must have been taken by professionals, after all, what amateur takes off the doors of a car? But we were wrong. The dealership guy said that it was done by total amateurs. They didn't even hotwire the car. They slopily bashed their way in, hit the steering column to start the car (breaking the stearing column in the process; how that got the car started, I don't know), hacked off all the doors, and took everything in the car. Everything. Even my stupid little pieces of paper in the glove box. They even got in at least one accident while they were driving around. There was body damage on the back of the car and both sides. Sheesh.
I'm not sure what's going to happen to the car, but almost certainly it's going to be totalled.
It seems like a fitting end to the car that caused me so much trouble (I think it's broken down 20 times in the year and a half we've had it), but if it had to go down this way, why couldn't I be the one to do it? Hehehe. Definately one of the worse experiences I've had in my life, but I'll get over it. I just wish that they'd left my stuff.