Nancy Drew...girl detective...

So, Monday morning and I had a stolen car blocking my drive way. Yeah… a bit different. It’s usually so quiet in my neighbourhood that I sometimes wonder if everyone has been kidnapped by triffids and I somehow missed out. Mind you, if I was a triffid I would probably think again about taking me to triffidom because I can be a pain in the arse and I am just not worth the effort.

Anyway, I wandered across the road to speak to the shirtless one to see if he knew who owned the car. Who is he? A neighbour, about 40-ish with long, late 1980’s style hair and I have never seen him wear a shirt. I don’t know why because it’s not like he is an Ellora’s Cave cover model – and yes beauty is in the eye of the beholder but his ‘beauty’ is just beyond me. Anyway, the shirtless one did not know – nor did his young girlfriend. He has heaps of them…again, I don’t get the appeal but it has to be the lid for every pot thing or maybe too much pot is being smoked and lids get flipped… whatever…So then I rang the local cop shop. The police asked the usual question. Rego number? I told them. Make and model of car? I don’t know but it’s sort of a sandy gold colour that has a tinge of almost silver through it as if burnished –one might even call if brassy. This is apparently not a good description. I then added it has four doors. There was a long silence. I like to think that they were dazzled by my Nancy Drew abilities of description. I was then asked to go out and look at the model. I came back and told them. In a moment they told me it was a stolen car. Well, there you go. Could I stick around for the officers to arrive? Sure, it’s Monday morning and it’s not like I have to go anywhere important to go but for work. No doubt they needed my uncanny Nancy Drew abilities to help them.

When they arrived, the notebook came out and I was asked full name and date of birth. I have to wonder how many crims are dumb enough to dump a stolen car at their own address, making it impossible for them to get out of the driveway, but apparently it happens. How long had the car been there? What time? What did you notice? Did you see anyone? Not sure. Don’t know. It just appeared. No, I had been cutting tree branches and writing sex all weekend but it’s a goldie-sort-of-silver car. They just smiled and nodded and walked back to their cop car to organize it to be towed away. When I got home from work the shirtless one looked at me and said “no car?” I said "what car?" I like to confuse people and I feel I did a good job today.

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