by Matt Writt
Leaving my apartment this morning, I crossed paths with an acquaintance who lives in the building. He threw his hands into the air and asked, "How long have you lived here, man?"
"About four years."
"Ever had your car broken into?"
I looked over his shoulder and saw a truck missing it's driver's side window. "Damn, that sucks."
I went on to tell him that my car had indeed been broken into a few years ago while parked in a particular area near our building — the same place he had happened to park last night.
In both our cases, the thieves didn't take anything of consequence: He lost his radio, which he didn't think to be of much value. I lost a booklet of burned CD's, having learned not to keep originals in the car after a previous break-in wiped out my collection.
In my case, the cost of the broken window far exceeded the value of what I lost; probably so for my friend, too. These were crimes of opportunity and desperation, not premeditated or orchestrated.
It reminded me of Bruce's column this week. His friends' reactions to his break-in included "That's Memphis" and "Get used to it." As an addition to that list, I humbly submit "Damn, that sucks."
Sometimes it sucks to be here. I think we can all fess up to that.
But that's true anywhere. Here, it sucks because it's really freakin' hot and sometimes your stuff gets taken.
But then you know not to park there any more. And autumn is on it's way. And today is Friday.