Captain Cartwheel

I got the call this morning while driving to work.  The Raptor was recovered.  The officer who called did not give me any details; I was told to call the Impound.

Introduce the glimmer of hope that dared blaze in my heart.  As I finished driving to work I felt relief and uncertainty.  Two days isn't too bad, right?  At least I don't have to go a full 30 days in limbo, right?  Closure.

The glimmer of hope quickly burst and fizzled when the first question I fielded from the Impound was "You have good insurance right?" Tears I didn't even know I was harboring sprung to my eyes as she described the shell of a vehicle I now owned. 

The car was found on a street in St. Paul by police officers on patrol.  They apparently approached the vehicle because it looked 'odd' as the car frame was sitting on donut wheels.  The interior of the car was stripped, the steering column, radio, entire back seat gone and trunk bare.  The locks were punched out, the battery gone.  The front of the car was scratched up and rusted - how it got rusted in just two days I have no idea - the back bumper scratched all to hell.  It was certainly not the same car I had when I went to bed on Monday.

I didn't even recognize the car, I walked by it twice before I realized it was mine.  It was difficult to look at, almost like I was looking at it through a stranger's eyes.  After the first look I was stunned and then numbness took over. 

That's really all I feel right now, numb. I feel so sad for the car, I know this is weird, but I felt like its innocence was lost and a shell of despair is left.  My despair.