How Facebook Found our Stolen Car

When Nick walked into the bedroom, his face told me something bad happened, and when he couldn't get the words out right away, I sat up.

"Our cars gone."

"What?"

"Its not in the driveway."

It was Saturday morning, Nick had just returned the night before from a week in the village of Port Graham, where everyone knows everyone, and if a car was missing, it would have just been borrowed by a cousin, and left parked at the community center.

"Its my fault. I drove it last and didn't lock it."

"No, I locked it last night before bed."

I need to pause here.

First of all, why the hell do I so easily take the blame for a thief's decision to trespass on our property and commit a felony?  Grand theft auto: Oh that's my fault, I left the car unlocked. I collect guilt, like plants, watering my sense of responsibility for all that goes wrong with the world.

Second, I am both trusting and forgetful, which means I often leave our back door unlocked on purpose and the cars unlocked by accident. I grew up on a school campus where most of our neighbors not just lived but worked together, leading me to believe that most folks are looking out for me. And I spend a lot of time in my head, dreaming, remembering, writing, so I don't always pay attention to what I'm doing in the moment. Like where I put my coffee cup or beer, Find Mom's Drink is a game we play often at our house. Not only do I forget to lock doors, I forget to close them.

As it turns out, Our Honda Element was locked but I had moved the truck while Nick was away so a neighbor could back in our driveway and load a pile of pavers into her vehicle.  I didn't re-lock the truck and an extra set of keys for the Element and house was still in there from our dipnetting trip a few weeks back.

So some scoundrel walked up our driveway, found the driver's door open on our Nissan, rummaged through the truck, found the Element keys, and drove "Mom's dream car" away.

All while Nick and I slept, bodies entwined, after a week apart. Happy fuckin' homecoming Nick, and what a way to celebrate our last week in Anchorage, a city where crime has been on the rise for the the past few years, with homicides making regular appearances on the daily news.

Our faith in our decision to move to Seward, amplified.

So we called the police and our insurance company and we both posted pictures of our bright orange Element on Facebook asking Anchorage folks to be on the lookout. Our friends shared our post, and their friends, and we turned our phones off their normal setting of silent, ringer at full volume, waiting for the police to call.

Nothing. 

Lots of messages of condolence, but no car.

Nick drove around the city, checking out trailer parks and parking lots. A neighbor almost got in trouble with security at the Century 16 theater for checking the plates on another orange Element.

"The plates could be changed. The box, laden with stickers, off the top," we said. "It could be anywhere."

Nick had the house re-keyed and still sleep didn't come as easy Saturday night.

On Sunday afternoon, our friend Karen (Also known as Ms. Karen, Elias's T. A. for the past three years) called and told Nick her friend saw our car turning on the Seward Highway, driving fast towards downtown. Same plates. Yakima box, with stickers, still on top. The friend had called it in to the police. Nick jumped in the truck and joined the search, only to come home without a sighting.

Still, hope, someone's driving our highly recognizable car around the city, plates and all.

As a kid my parents drove a bright orange station wagon that in middle school embarrassed me to the point of asking them to drop me off around the corner from places, they threatened to keep it for me until I turned 16, I'd roll my eyes, and all I can say is I'm glad I grew up to love the color orange, especially for a car.

I usually leave my phone, like my coffee mugs and beer bottles, in random spots throughout our house, but I kept it close waiting for the police to call. I checked Facebook incessantly hoping for leads.

Nothing more.

So Nick woke early on Monday and did another drive around in the area where the woman had first seen the car. He came home an hour or so later with no luck.

And then he checked Facebook.

Another friend of a friend of a friend saw our car, and this time, parked on the street by her house. Nick called her and confirmed the address, she sent a picture, and off he drove to Meadow Street only to call me minutes later.

"I got it."

"Call the police."

And that is how Facebook, not the police, who are understaffed and overworked with more serious crimes, found our car.

The police came and dusted the Big Gulp cups and mirror for prints. Our car is being detailed as I write. The Mike and Ike's candy and fluorescent orange chips on the floor, the smell of smoke, erased, so we can reclaim the orange Honda Element as our own.

The thieves took or dumped my wool college captain's blanket, blue with a big C on it, a blanket that travelled with me from Maine to Alaska and sure, I use it for the dogs, but I earned it years ago on those manicured soccer fields. Olive's car seat and her stickers she just got from the doctor after her TB test. Elias's accessible parking pass. Two bags of 50 tulip bulbs I just bought at Costco to plant up at our clearing above Lowell Point in Seward, the space where we will someday build our new home. A pair of Smith sunglasses with extra lens. A stone pendant that hung from the rearview mirror, mine since the late 90's, a reminder to be brave in the face of change, that sometimes letting go is the only way to live more authentically.

And for a couple days they stole my faith in people-- but they did not get to keep it.

Or the car.

The community of helpers outnumbered and outsmarted the robbers. And for this, I will go on trusting my community, even if I am a little more vigilant about locking my doors-- that is, until I forget again.

Thank you Facebook for helping us spread the word, and thank you to the kind people who didn't know us personally but took a moment out of their day to respond to information about my stolen "dream car."

Some dreams, after all, come true.

Comments

[Catherine]

I don't love that your car was stolen. But I love the happy ending!

[Cheryl Childers]

My Friend. It is great you got your car back. It is good news no one was hurt. I am so sorry for the struggle all of you had to go through. I continue to love your writing - and this 'story' is no different. Keep on living through this life and telling us your 'stories.' Lots of love.

[Paul]

Good to see this FB has a positive side for the larger community. Thankful your car is home. These people are not getting the criminal mastermind award. Remember you can garnish their PFDs for damage.