The Story of My Stolen Honda

I left you hanging. Sorry about that.

Thanks to all my Facebook and Twitter friends who tweeted or shared the call for help recovering my vehicle over 5,000 times.  That was so awesome.

So here’s how it happened.  Remember when I tweeted that my honda was stolen around two months ago?  Well the car was recovered and all is well in the world.  However, the story behind its disappearance are still irking me.  Here’s how it happened, all nice and bulleted.

My 1998 Honda Accord was parked at our condo.  The car was parked legally in a parking spot paid for by our association dues.

  • I went to Chase‘s softball game with a bunch of friends one night and came home to an empty parking spot, where my car used to be parked.
  • I called a few tow truck companies, none had the car (including Tiger Towing).
  • I called the police and asked if my car had been towed. They say no and send over an officer.
  • I open the door to a very nice officer who states “If your car was parked there and it isn’t anymore, it was stolen. For a car to be towed I would have to authorize it and I have not authorized any tows in this area. I’m sorry to say but your car has been stolen.”
  • I filled out the stolen vehicle report.
  • I called my insurance and filed a claim, they offered me a rental while recovery was attempted.
  • I waited several days.
  • I got a voicemail from State Farm saying at this point they see the car as gone for good, began to setup a payout on the value.
  • I received a phone call from the Columbia Police Department.
  • I am accused of falsely reporting a car as stolen! Officer on the phone says the car was stolen towed a week ago from my property by Tiger Towing (who denied a week ago that they had towed my car)
  • I call Tiger Towing, “Oh yeah, we have your car. We’ve had it for about a week.”
  • I am informed that the car was towed for being “illegally parked on private property.” Property that we own, parked 100% legally.
  • I pay the towing fee.
  • I pay the storage fee.
  • I am given a $15 ticket from the City for parking illegally. WTF?! WTF?! WTF?! WTF?!
  • I pay Custom Complete Auto to fix my car back up to where it was before the tow.
  • I send the car away to Texas. It has been too bad of luck for me.

In the matter of a few years that car has been stolen twice, broken into twice, vandalized three times, had three transmissions (two were defective) replaced… I loved that car but it had the absolute worst luck.  For me.

When my parents came into town for my graduation, they kindly took the car back to Texas to sit in our garage. Whenever my parents visit America they will use it instead of a rental car.  Here’s to hoping the bad luck I’m cursed with doesn’t continue to plague that car.

So there you go. The story of my stolen Honda.

Look Ma, No Wheels!


Originally uploaded by justex07

So, I get a call at 3:30 Wednesday morning from the University Police. Officer Rod Stewart (I kid you not) is on the phone.

“Is this Justin Scott?”
Yes it is.
“Do you own a 1998 Silver Honda Accord?”
Yes I do.
“You need to come down to the Hitt Street Parking Garage, it appears someone has stolen all of your wheels.”
Ugh, vandalized again? I’ll be right down.

My friend Scott, who was crashing on my couch, went down with me to investigate the damage.

They took my tires, my rims and in turn bent my rotors. It’s a big hot mess and the sixth time it has happened since I have moved back to Columbia. At this point I think nothing can surprise me. My car will get the windows knocked out, my doors will be knocked in my basketballs, my door handles will be ripped off, my stuff will get stolen out of it, my bike will be stolen from my apartment, my clothes will be destroyed by deviants in the laundry room, my transmission will go out and so will the brand new one two days into its life.

These are just things I accept now. It’s ok, shit is going to happen and it is going to happen to me, but it no longer gets me down. It is more of something that has become a comical nuance to my life.

I am Justin and I am perpetually screwed.

Fuckity Fuck

Labor Day weekend was proving to be really awesome. Had fun hanging out with my friends, working, having a three day weekend… and then shit happened.

Some one felt the need to throw a football sized rock through my window causing damage to the interior of the car and obviously destroying the window. Oh, and they stole my 30gb iPod Video and my UltimateEars ifi5 Pro headphones.

Did you know insurance doesn’t cover stolen items from your car?  True story.  Beyond “permanent installations”, you are fucked just like me.

Now it’s Time to Bitch

Ok, I gave you a somewhat muted post, now I just wanna get some shit out.

  • Don’t tell me we are going to hang out and not call me back, much less hang out with me.
  • Don’t tell me you don’t like something about me that was month, years ago and not present.  Why would I care now?  What does it matter?
  • Don’t tell me you really like me and then blow me off, you obviously don’t really like me.
  • Don’t tell me we should hang out and you miss being around me and then hang out with my roommate instead.
  • Don’t act like I’m not in the same room as you.
  • Don’t blame everything on your period.  A menstrual cycle is rough, sure, I’ll give you that, but it isn’t a month long and you can take a god-damned Mydol you know.
  • Don’t tell me you find me attractive if you don’t.
  • Don’t tell me to call you if you know you aren’t going to answer your phone.
  • Don’t act like you want to date me and then go out with another guy.
  • Don’t schedule me for only 15 hours a week and then complain about availability when there are people wanting hours and you just won’t give them to them.
  • Don’t fucking wait for the light to turn yellow before driving through the intersection, you really slow down my day.
  • Don’t ignore me.
  • Don’t keep calling me like it’s your business.
  • Don’t send me anymore credit card applications.  I have too many cards already.
  • Don’t push me to drink alcohol.  It won’t make you more attractive.
  • Don’t dance if you can’t.
  • Don’t sing if you can’t, it isn’t even funny at this point.
  • Don’t keep dating the same guy and then crying when he breaks up with you, again and again.
  • Don’t judge me for the music I listen to.  If I cared what you thought, I’d ask.
  • Don’t leave me annoying, long-winded voice messages.
  • Don’t forget that we used to be best friends.
  • Don’t forget that we used to be in love.
  • Don’t say you will when you both know you won’t.
  • Don’t say you can when we both know you can’t.
  • Don’t think that this is referring to you.
  • Don’t think this is about someone else, it isn’t.
  • Don’t get drunk all the time.
  • Don’t judge people so much, and no, you aren’t fat so stop acting like you are.
  • Don’t be so dramatic, you aren’t that special and if you were, we’d have you admitted.
  • Don’t fear love so fucking much, just let it happen.
  • Don’t think you are better than me because you got a promotion.  That just means they sucked you in and you won’t ever make a solid living.
  • Don’t forget that in five years I will be making triple what you make.
  • Don’t think it’s all about the money, it rarely really is.
  • Don’t let your thoughts invade mine, it gets me in a fit.
  • Don’t throw basketballs at my car, it costs me a-fucking-lot of money to get that shit fixed.
  • Don’t be such a whore, spreading your seed isn’t safe or wholesome.
  • Don’t have such low self-esteem.
  • Don’t think so highly of yourself, your ego is way outta control.
  • Don’t act like you’re right when you aren’t, arguing isn’t fun, especially with you.
  • Don’t punch through bathroom doors.
  • Don’t drop out of my sublease, you bastard.
  • Don’t stress me out so much, I get all weird and make posts like this.
  • Don’t tell me you love me and then take it back the next day, that’s just trashy.
  • Don’t be such a bitch to me
  • Don’t manage a store if you can’t handle it.
  • Don’t forget all the times I did something for you.
  • Don’t forget my sacrifices.
  • Don’t forget my mistakes, being here is one of them.

There, I feel a little better.

He’s Got Game (Update)

So, after some serious sleuthing (ummm… watched an episode of CSI: Miami), I came upon these facts.

The ball that my car was leather, based on the imprints made into the paint. A rubber ball would not have been hard enough to press into the paint like that.

The ball had to have been kicked, anyone throwing a ball with that much force would be a pro football quarterback, not playing pickup basketball on a half court between 1 and 8 am.

The owner of the ball must be pretty good. Wilson leather basketballs aren’t super cheap (not expensive but anyone just fucking around would go with a rubber Spalding or something like that).

And then… I found the guilty party (alleged).

This guy has a leather, Wilson basketball and is playing everyday, just about 20 yards from my car.  Hmmmmm

Not as Bad as His

My day might have been shitty, what with going into work when I didn’t need to, having my wrist is such pain (dude, it’s fucked up) and someone thrashing my car with a basketball…

At least I know that my day isn’t nearly as bad as this guy’s!


Oh, sad! Beautiful little bird, I guess he got lost in the windowed stairwell of Hitt Street Garage. What kind of bird is that?

He’s Got Game

Last night I was in some interesting company.  Chadd, Landon, Geoff, and several others who I would normally never put into the same room.  It was interesting at times, not so much with Chadd but dynamics between other people, especially one certain un-named character.

But in the end, last night was relatively uneventful.  However, the next morning would prove different.

First off, I thought I had to be at work at 8:45am, but it turns out I needed to be there at 8:45pm.  oops.  Oh well, it actually worked out because the store was absolutely swamped and they were going to cut my night shift.  Yay for being 12 hours early.

When I got to my car to drive to work I noticed that the door felt kinda weird while opening.  I get out of my car and see a big ol’ dent in the front wheel well right by the door.  Such a big dent that it hampers the door opening and have broken the paint, pinching the metal.


I at first thought a car had hit me, but after closer inspection, I noticed that pressed into the paint was the word Wilson, in reverse.  And an even better look saw the impression of the texture of a basket ball. 

A basketball caused this.  How in the world could someone throw a ball this hard?  Someone must have kicked it.  But when I left my car at 1:00am, there were two cars on my left side, one so close I could barely get my door open. 

This happened between the hours of 1:00am and 8:30am and at least one car had to have left in order for the ball to hit.

It’s pretty annoying, plus with a $1000 deductable, getting it fixed won’t be cheap.  Whoever did this to my car, you’re a bastard.