Our car was broken into again, only this time they did it properly, with the little back window and the front driver’s side window smashed in (I suppose our friendly neighborhood thief didn’t have long enough arms to reach the back door lock from the little window). I hope the effort was worth what they got from the car – our radio, which never really worked properly and is basically useless without the CD changer. Ironically, he (or she, I’m equal opportunity) did not get the nine euros’ worth of change my husband kept in the car, although how they missed that must be chalked up to the fact that they were really jonesing for some dope. They rooted through the glove compartment, no doubt because they think all people are as stupid as drug addicts, and surely the average human being puts their extra money in the glove compartment instead of the bank.
So here we go again, another three hundred euros (or more) to repair the damn car. I still have to wonder how our car went for almost two years in the same damn spot without being touched, only to be broken into once we actually started using it again. Hey, it is all worth it if Mr. or Mrs. Crackhead got their fix. I wouldn’t want them to detox on my watch.