Rant #3,424: Police and Thieves

Thankfully, this is the end of a very tumultuous week for myself and my family.

I would like to put this week totally behind me, and one way of doing that leading into the Labor Day weekend and holiday was for me to go back to physical therapy on Thursday.

And I am happy to say that I didn't miss a beat there, although I went there just this one time during this crazy week, not the usual two times that I normally do.

I did everything I had to do, and while I was a bit winded, it felt good going there, using all the machines, and working out as I did.

I told some people a very truncated version of what I went through the past few days, and nobody can believe it.

But I am OK, and that is what counts.

What made this incident even worse was that I actually had a car stolen more than 30 years ago--two days before I was to be married.

On the evening of June 4, 1993, I drove to a friend's apartment, a building that was parallel to the Van Wyck Expressway in Queens.

He was taking me out to a restaurant in Manhattan--I don't remember which one, but I think it featured Tex-Mex fare--and I found a parking spot right in front of the building next door to where my friend and his spouse lived.

We had a nice evening, and we returned back to his apartment, and it was time for me to go.

I went to where I had parked my car, and it was gone.

I walked up and down the block, thinking that perhaps I hadn't parked it where I said I parked it, but I walked up and down the street several times, and it was gone.

The building that I parked in front of had a doorman, and I questioned if he had seen anything, and, of course, in broken English, he said to me something akin to the "I know nothing" response by Sgt. Schultz from "Hogan's Heroes."

So my car was gone, I went back to my friend's apartment, and I called the police.

About 20 minutes later, there is a knock at the door, and two policemen were there to hear my story--

And they seemed to be sent from central casting, not from "Hill Street Blues" or even from "Adam-12," but my luck--

From "Car 54, Where Are You."

Yes, two carbon copies of Toody and Muldoon, one short and heavy and one tall and skinny.

About the only thing differentiating them from Joe E. Ross and Fred Gwynne were that they were black.

The Toody lookalike was coughing and sneezing all over the place during the time I was giving them my information, while the.tall Muldoon lookalike didn't look.like he had much of a clue about what I was describing to them.

After I gave them the information and they left, my friend drove me home at about one or two in the morning.

Suffice it to say, I never got my car back--

And one of the local channel's news shows, subsequently, just a few weeks later, did a story about the increase of cars being stolen from that area, and the focus of those that were doing the stealing, the Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, the exact car of mine that had been stolen.

My car was at least 10 years old, I bought it when it was about seven or eight years old, and the report said that these cars were being targeted, not to drive, but for parts.

These cars were hot wired, stolen and driven to any number of Brooklyn chop shops, where they were dismantled.

And yes, the police were looking into doormen being involved, getting paid to scope out the Olds and some other cars ripe for stealing.

But the police theorized this, had no solid proof that these doormen--including the one I questioned--were directly involved.

But that was the way it worked.

So looking back to what happened to me more than 30 years ago, you can see why I reacted the way I did when I didn't see my car this past weekend.

It was deja vu all over again ... it was not really a panic attack, but it was more an attack of.panic.

And if you remember, about a year ago, I caught somebody preparing to steal my car's catalytic converter right in front of my old residence.

If this idiot didn't see me peer out our old front window, he would have done this.

It happened to my sister's car, and it could happen to anyone's vehicle.

So when I didn't see my car the other morning--and then found out how absolutely ridiculous this whole situation was--you can understand why I had to speak to management the way I did--

And again, funny, I have had no problem finding a "Visitors" parking space since I let it be known to management that this situation can never happen again.

Anyway, have a great weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday--

Have car, will travel.