Captain Cartwheel

I was pretty sure I was being punk'd this morning when I attempted to head to the gym before work.   I lugged my gym bag, water-jog belt and work bag outside, locked my apartment door and turned to go to my car.  Imagine my surprise when the driveway was empty. 

My thought process:

1. See empty driveway, 'Hmmm, that's odd.'

2. Turn around and look at street, 'I'm pretty sure I parked in the driveway...'

3. Turn back to look at the driveway, 'Still empty.'

4.  Lug bags down the block and peer around the corner, 'WTF.'

5.  Frantically hitting unlock botton and looking for my lights, 'I could have sworn I parked in the driveway.'

6.  'Fuck, shit, fuck, crap, where the frick is my car!?'

7.  Unlock apartment door and lug bags back upstairs.

8.  Call brother - the only other person with a key to my car - 'Sorry to wake you, you didn't happen to have an emergency and take my car in the middle of the night did you?  No?'

9.  Shit my car was stolen.

The Raptor is gone.  It wasn't the most beautiful car, lacked cruise control, and had crank windows, but it was my car.  A car I purchased on my own and had nearly paid off.  It was 10 years old and had less than 55,000 miles on it.  Did I mention it was mine!

Turns out the Honda Civic is the the second most stolen car in Saint Paul.  So now I wait for 30 days to see if my car is recovered.  If it is, I get my car back - hopefully in salvagable pieces (or dare I say 1 piece?!).  If it isn't, I'll be car shopping.  Either way, FRICK!  Not cool.

The best part of the day was realizing the likelihood of it getting worse after 6 a.m. was slim.  I now have rental Ford Focus stilling in my driveway, I sure hope it's there in the morning.