Gone is 60 seconds

What could be better than a quiet lunch with the man of your dreams? That is what I was thinking when I called Jim to ask if he had eaten lunch yet and tell him I was on my way over to eat with him. It was our anniversary after all, we might as well have some kind of celebration.

We agreed to meet in the parking lot of one of our favorite restaurant. Just as I pulled into my parking place I saw him pulling in just a few spots over. Lunch really wasn't anything special but I enjoyed the time together.

We headed back to the trucks when Jim asked "Where did I park?"

Thinking he was having an Alzheimer's moment I replied "Just three spots over from me, Why?"

Looking a little to serious for my blood he responded "because it isn't there."

After taking a few minutes to let it all soak in, looking the entire parking lot over, and realizing it just wasn't there we called the police. Our truck had been stolen. We sat in my truck for the next 2 hours waiting for a police officer to show up and talking. I have to admit, it was probably the best quiet time we have had in a while.


It took a few days before we were able to start joking about our streak of bad luck. Our truck had been up for sale. Jim wondered aloud if the signs were still up and we laughed at the thought of getting a call from someone interested in it. We thought about what we would say... "It's yours if you follow that truck and call the police!"

With every day that passed I was slowly accepting that our truck was gone. No one ever gave us much hope and it was most likely across the boarder by now. There were a few tears and at times we struggled with becoming a 1 car family. I was either stranded at home or in my truck all day taking Jim to and from work, the kids to and from school and doing only a few errands. Just as I had had enough and thinking that I couldn't stand only having only 1 car to drive, I got the call.

"Crystal?"

"yes"

"This is the police department, your truck has been found"

The next few days consisted of wondering about the obscure place it was found, talking to police, finding a repair shop to take it to, having it towed to town, and going to see how bad the damage was. Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as I had imagined it would be. A few dents and scrapes here and there but it still looks like our truck.



The tears didn't come until I opened the door. Something struck me about all the mud, everything we had inside it (like the carseat) was gone, and it was full of trash, their trash! I can't even begin to explain my feelings.

Believe it or not, I think we were lucky. Although all the lights were punched out both inside and out, there was mud everywhere both inside and out, and some body damage both inside and out, the truck isn't in to bad of shape. In the days since I have seen others come in from the same fate that look a lot worse!

It seems that we will continue to be a 1 car family for a little longer while it is being fixed but at least I can see an end coming!