CATEGORY: MRS. ANDERSON

Another incident of indecencies to our automobiles involved Bob’s car, a Volkswagen station wagon.  The brakes were bad and Bob had put off getting them fixed.  One day, I was driving his car and was coming home via Terwilliger Boulevard, a curving thoroughfare above us.  This means that I was coming home from up the ravine.  Just as I was pulling over to stop, the brakes gave out completely.  I managed to stop the car against the curb.  When I told Bob, he went out to look at it.  He unlocked the car door to test the brakes.  He came back and said he would get it fixed tomorrow.

As we were going to bed he suddenly remembered that he had left the car door unlocked.  Then he said again that he would let it go until tomorrow.  Thinking of all the things that had been stolen from our cars, I said, “This time somebody will probably steal the whole damn car!”

Again, in the middle of the night we were awakened by a sound.  This time it was a man screaming.  The scream descended off down the ravine like someone falling over a cliff.  We looked outside.  Bob’s car was gone. Somebody really had stolen the whole damn car!  After an initial chagrin, Bob started laughing.  He said “No brakes!  Serves the bastard right!  I hope he killed himself!”  He called the police.  They soon reported that the car had been found at the bottom of the ravine—down in the ravine.

The next morning we walked down to take a look.  The car had missed the last curve, jumped the sidewalk and come to a stop with its nose buried in ivy at the REAL bottom of the ravine.  We bush-whacked to it through thigh-deep ivy.  Bob opened the front door hoping to find a dead body.  When there wasn’t one, he said “Damn, damn, damn!”  He called for a tow truck to come and winch his sturdy little car up to the street, and he was able to drive it to a shop.  He was told that it had only minor damage.  Thick ivy has a dragging and cushioning effect something like three feet of foam rubber soaked in molasses.

We talked it over afterward.  Bob thought it might be a good idea to leave an unlocked, brakeless car sitting on the street with its tire into the curb as bait.  He optimistically said that we might be able to kill someone.  When I looked at him askance, he backed off somewhat.  “Seriously injure?” he queried.  I said, “Well maybe.”