Blogging from the Red Line, where an oversized man reeking of sweat and Winstons is snoring in the seat in front of me. Just passed the Loyola stop. This is going to be a long trip–back to the Brown Line tomorrow.
An unknown criminal was in my car on Saturday night. I know that because on Sunday morning the passenger door was standing ajar and the glovebox was hanging slackjawed, clearly having been rifled through.
Nothing was taken from the car, though there was nothing there worth stealing, outside of 62 cents in small change.
My neighbor said that his car and garage had been “visited,” as well. Nothing taken there, either.
I called the police last night to report the invasive non-theft. They came out and theorized that it was dumb kids looking to lift GPS systems. Finally, my innate sense of direction paid off–I don’t own a GPS.
The police were surprised that nothing at all was missing, specifically the 62 cents. “They always take the change,” one officer said.
I’ve been following local police blotters, and it seems like crimes are getting more frequent and desperate every week. Going garage to garage, car to car, in my relatively quiet, blue collar, hood looking to steal GPS’s is definitely desperate. And from what I can tell, unsuccessful.