Post #1

Hmmm... This being my first post I want it to be good. The only problem is that I do not know what to post about. Wait! I have an idea. I will tell the very embarrassing story of my stolen car. So it begins..

Unfortunately this story doesn't start with a happy and creative one liner. It all began the morning after my dog died. I know, not happy. Well the morning after we had to put my dog down I had decided that I was not going to school. My little sister had some sort of project that was critical for her to turn in, so being the good big sister that I am, I decided that I would wake up, take her to school then go home and right back to bed. Well she came into my room and told me that she need to go in five minutes, so groggily I rolled out of bed, put on my shoes, and pulled back my tangled hair. I grabbed a big sweater because I didn't want to have to take the trouble to look nice and then I grabbed my keys and wallet from the night stand. By then my little sister was fully ready to go so I made my way up the stairs and to the front door. I unlocked it and being the gentlewoman that I am held open the door so that my sister could go out first. She stepped out onto the porch step as I made to close the door. "Uh? Courtney?" She said. "Where is your car?" I turned around and sure enough the spot that I parked was empty. My mother makes me park on the road because she values the beautiful image of her house; like any good real estate woman would. So all that was left was the oil spots where my car had taken a leak on the road and gutter. I was so tiered and dazed that all I could do was stand there and look around the street for my car. Like some how it would just have turned on and moved its self down the street. Keep in mind that my neighborhood can be pretty sketchy at times. I turned my head slightly and called. "MOM. I think that someone stole my car." Ya I really thought that maybe someone had stolen it. Well after the hustle of getting my older sister to take my younger sister to school I realized that I had left my wallet in the console of my car. Something that I never do. Great I thought. Now I needed to get a new library card! And they got my $10 dollar Barnes and Nobel card! Okay those were not my first thoughts but that really did bother me. Well My mom gave me the number to the area police and had me make the report. She told me it would be a good experience. I grudgingly thought that I didn't deserve to have to have this particular experience.  Well I made the call and had to talk to one mean cop telling me that I had the wrong area and then I was given the number to a different station. The next cop was nice and helped me when I said that the car was stolen. I don't fully remember the conversation but I knew that someone was going to come and talk to me some more. After I got off the phone and told my mom that the police officer said that they were going to have someone else talk to me. She told me to go and look presentable in case they decided to make a house call. I gave her a shocked look. I did NOT want to get out of my pajamas, or to deal with the large amount of tangles in my hair. But I did what I was told and got ready for the day. Then I waited around for a police officer to come knocking at my door. Soon the phone rang and I ran for it in case it was for me. It was and this time a police officer asked me a series of questions. When I gave my license plate number to him he repeated it back but he used words like Delta and Echo. Then trying to be awesome I repeated it back to him with his choice of fancy words. I'm such a dork! I gave him any information that I could about my car to help the police identify it. He told me that he would get back to me if they had any information, he gave me a case number and that was it. I hung up and felt a little disappointed that I didn't get to talk to the police man in person. Being the dork that I am I would have loved to talk to an officer when I wasn't the one in trouble. Yes I have been pulled over a couple of times. But back to the story.. This all happened on a Wednesday morning and it wasn't till around noon that I had all of the police business finished. As a side note let me tell you something about this story that bothers me. I have some neighbors that are up and out at all hours of the day, so naturally my mother and I walked over to ask if they had seen or heard anything. They hadn't, which I don't blame them because I sleep like the dead. Well we were talking to one of them and they told me that they thought that it was my neighbor across the street and that they were trouble makers who were up to no good. Well the people who live across the street are a African American man, his wife who is part Hawaiian and part Caucasian, their two sons who are African/Caucasian/and Hawaiian. Their youngest son is one of my best friends and yes he always looks like trouble and his friends are even sketchier, but I have never met nicer people. So when everyone jumped to the assumption that it was my best friends dad that had taken the car I was angry. How dare they! What they didn't know because they are not neighborly people is that my friends dad had the radio stolen out of his car. So he also was a victim! Racist brats! More than one person had that theory and pretty soon I began to tune them out. The next day I had to be dropped off at school and then walk to work. When I arrived at work I had to get a new hat for my uniform because my old one had been laying on the back seat of my stolen car. It was funny when I had to tell one employee about my missing vehicle, because soon the news was pulsing about my work and every one made jokes about me and my car; which I learned is one of the easiest cars to break into. You don't understand how many times I have been told how easy my car is to steal. People really think that they have to let me know that they know everything just because they are older than I am. Well I made it through that shift and was exhausted as I walked home. It wasn't till Saturday when I had given up and gone to get a new library card that I got the phone call. Well I didn't get the phone call, my little sister did. It was my mom and she had gotten a hold of me through my little sisters phone because the vibrate had broken on mine and out of respect for people visiting the library I had turned off the sound. Well when I was handed the phone I ran out of the building; out of respect for the patrons. When I was outside my mom told me that she had found my car. It was in a church parking lot near my house, she also told me that everything was in it. I freaked out and probably scared everyone trying to enter the library. My mother told me that the police thought that I had left the car at the church and got drunk or did something else illegal and ended up getting a ride home with someone, then reported the car stolen so I wouldn't get into trouble. My mother assured the police that I was not that type of girl and that she trusted me and I assured my mom that a scheme like that requires more effort than it is worth. Now this is where the part about my recently passed dog comes in. His name was Rex and he was a real member and guardian of my family. Well he had been in our family for a long time. He was pretty old and had grown sick, and not the kind of sick that a quick trip to the vet could fix. We also didn't have the resources to get him the help that he needed and deserved. So for as long as he could be a happy dog, we let him do so. When the pain and sickness deprived him of his life and we knew that he was close to the end, we scheduled an appointment for Tuesday at 5:30 at the Animal Clinic and took him in. I elected to stay behind because I didn't want to watch the life fade from my beloved friend. My two sisters and mother must be stronger than I am because they went with to give him comfort as he passed. When my family came home we were all in tears and my younger sister and I decided that we didn't want to be at home so we went to the youth activity being held at my church. It felt good to have a distraction for a while, but the whole night I felt like I was in a daze.
The next morning when I woke up my car was gone. Within 24 hours I had lost my friend and my car. My life sucked, but when my mom found it at the church I felt a little bit better. Then she told me about the police saying that they think that I had done some thing wrong and gotten a ride home. The gotten a ride home part is what stuck in my head. A little memory came to the surface of my mind. I remembered being in someones car Tuesdays night. Then I put the pieces together. I hadn't driven home because I had only driven to the church and our group all got into one car and went to the bowling ally. Then when we separated they had just dropped me off at my own house. I still can't see the image really clearly but I know it is true. Now you are probably wondering why my little sister didn't remember why we had gone home in a different car, because I have the clearest memory of getting out of my car. An image that my brain had produced because I had done it all so many times that my brain naturally thought that had happened. Well my little sister remembered that we had been driven home by a leader that night, but only after I asked her about it. I believe that because we had been so clouded with grief that we both just shut down when we had gotten into the carpool car. Super weird. Ya...... So my car was not stolen, it was simply forgotten. IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN! So the story is that I am a sad idiot who actually couldn't remember correctly what she had done with her car, my brain really did invent the image of me getting out of my car, but not of me driving it because that never happened. Oh and in case anyone thinks I was drugged. I was not! I did not have any food or water at the activity. Well..... there is the story, take it or leave it. I hope you got a laugh out of my misery...