We arrived home late that Sunday night. Curt unhooked my car from the RV, and I parked it in the driveway. Normally I would pull it into the garage, but we’d been gone for the weekend and my daughter’s vehicle was in my spot.

I thought Curt was going to finish up with the RV, move our daughter’s car, and pull mine into the garage. He didn’t.

He assumed I had locked the car doors before heading into the house. I hadn’t.

Careless mistakes—especially since we’d both recently heard that some cars had been stolen around our community.

I still kick myself when I think about it. I made it so easy for them. I left my purse in the car along with my credit cards, driver’s license, a bunch of gift cards and you guessed it … my car keys. Other valuables in the trunk were my husband’s golf clubs, my daughter’s Birkenstock sandals, my wheelchair, and since we’d just returned from a weekend of helping our middle daughter move into her first apartment, my vacuum sweeper.

So, when I stepped outside on Monday morning, my car was nowhere to be found. We cancelled our credit cards, contacted the insurance company, and filed a report with the local police. Unfortunately, the police told us there wasn’t much they could do since the thieves were likely minors. Their recommendation? Just wait. “It’ll show up—probably in some random alley or parking lot—within the next couple of weeks. Someone will report it, we’ll run the plates and see that it’s a stolen car. We’ll contact you then.”

So basically, we’d get our car back after it had been totaled.

It wasn’t long before someone found my purse in an abandoned parking lot. The good news: My license and credit cards were still in my purse—which made no sense to me. The cop explained. “These kids aren’t interested in stealing money or your identity. It’s all about the adrenaline rush.”

The bad news: they kept my gift cards. Subway, Chipotle, Texas Roadhouse, Target, Barnes and Noble … all of them gone.Although, I couldn’t imagine the thieves rushing out to Barnes and Noble to pick out a good book. Who has time to read when you’re busy stealing cars?

As the day went on, Curt got more frustrated. “I can’t believe the cops won’t do anything about this. I’d sure love to get my hands on whoever stole our car.” That night after dinner, he’d finally had enough. He grabbed the keys to his truck.

“Where are you going,” I asked.

“Going for a drive. Gonna look for our car.”

I laughed. “What? There is no way you’re gonna find that car. It could be anywhere. It’s probably out of state by now.”   

“Well, I can’t sit around and do nothing,” he said, heading towards the door. I could tell by the look on his face. I wasn’t going to talk him out of it.  

“Wait,” I said, I’m going with you.”

He shot me a look. “I’d rather you not.”

Now I really wanted to go. I crossed my arms. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

He shrugged and we were on our way.

We drove through a couple of parking lots, scrutinizing every maroon Ford Edge we saw. About 15 minutes into our drive, Curt looked over at me and said, “they’re probably eating at Chipotle.”

I thought of my gift card and shook my head. What were the chances.  

We were about a block from Chipotle when we met a maroon Ford Edge that looked very much like ours. Curt clenched the wheel and took a quick look in the rearview mirror. “I think that was our car.”

“No way, “I said. “Are you serious?”

He hit the brakes and made a sharp U-turn. “I didn’t see the front bumper.” We both knew that the right front bumper had been busted several months ago. If we could see the front, we’d know if it was our car.

Now we were two cars behind them. They made a right turn into a gas station. We followed. They pulled up to a pump. Curt zipped over and stopped in front of them. That’s when we saw it. The hair on my arms stood up. This was definitely our car.

The guy in the passenger seat was already halfway through the parking lot heading into the gas station. Curt threw the truck into park and jumped out. The thief swung open the driver’s side door, banging it hard against the gas pump.

For a moment, the kid was clueless. He looked up at Curt with a smirk and shrugged as if to say, oops, silly me. I guess I parked a little too close to the pump. And then it registered, and his eyes widened.

Curt didn’t say a word, but the anger was evident on his face. He lunged toward the guy who jumped back into the car, locked the doors, and started the engine. At this point, I prayed that Curt wouldn’t do something stupid in the heat of the moment—like jump onto the hood of the car. He didn’t, but the punk thew it in reverse and peeled out of the parking lot.

About that time the other guy came out of the gas station. He saw his buddy speed away and glanced over at Curt, immediately connecting the dots. He took off running across the parking lot. Curt sprinted after him.

And I sat in the truck, stunned.

As Curt chased the kid through a couple of parking lots and a busy street, the guy driving my car circled back and parked right in front of the gas station. He honked the horn, not realizing his friend had already run off on foot.

I grabbed my cellphone, slipped out the passenger-side door, and walked the length of the truck. I needed to get a picture of this guy sitting in my car. But each time I popped out from behind the truck, he glanced my way. Side note: here’s another example of why MS sucks. I had to consider my physical limitations. What would I do if he saw me taking his picture? What if he came after me? I couldn’t run. I couldn’t defend myself. Sometimes just making a sudden move makes me lose my balance. Unfortunately, I failed to get a picture.

The guy honked again, waited a few more seconds and raced away. I crawled into the truck and took off, hoping to find Curt.

That’s when Curt stopped chasing the kid on foot. Why? #1. He realized that if he did get his hands on this underage dilinquint, Curt would probably be the one that ended up in trouble. And #2. He’d seen our car circle back to the gas station—and he knew I was there by myself.

As Curt walked back, he saw my car pass by. The driver was now parked behind another car, sitting at a red light. Curt wasn’t far from him. Unfortunately, the guy knew this, so he whipped around the car in front of him, made a big U-turn in the middle of the intersection, and took off in the other direction. 

I hadn’t driven the truck very far when I found Curt standing in a parking lot, talking to a guy that worked at a nearby fast-food restaurant. He had seen some of the fiasco and noticed that the kid had lost his shoes while running away. Another side note: crocs are not the best choice of footwear if you’ve stolen a car and are trying to outrun the owner. Not sure if he kicked them off (or if they fell off) but the fast-food guy had picked them up and stuck them in a plastic bag. He handed us the bag, promised to call the cops, and wished us luck.

After Curt and I were both back in the truck, we swung back by the gas station. Curt ran in and told the cashier to make a note of the time because the cops would need a copy of their security video.

Then we cruised around for a bit, looking for the barefoot car thief.

It was just starting to get dark outside when we cruised through a nearby trailer court. That’s when we saw it. They had ditched my car on an empty lot. We called the police, told them we’d found the car, and gave them the address so they could meet us there. The doors were locked.

On the outside, my car looked normal. No major dents or scrapes that we could see. Curt cupped his hands and peered inside.

“Are your golf clubs in there? My wheelchair? The vacuum sweeper?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

A few minutes later, the cops showed up. We gave them the shoes, and they brought out a K-9 to get his scent and attempted to track him down. No such luck.

I know this has been a long blog post. Thanks for hanging in there with me. I’ll wrap it up. Basically, here’s the rest of the story …

The cops filed a report and asked us what we wanted to do. We decided to get our car towed to the sheriff’s department so they could get fingerprints.

A couple days later, Curt went to see the car. There was extensive damage. A large chunk of the left front tire was gone. The aluminum rim was bent. The interior was completely trashed. One of the sun visors had been ripped off. Every seat and door panel had been slashed. They had used a pen and a highlighter to write all over the dashboard and ceiling. The sunroof had been busted. In the backseat, there were items that weren’t even ours. Gift cards. Credit cards. Purses. And one interesting find in the front seat … a cellphone that belonged to one of the thieves.

Typically, I like to write positive stories that encourage others. But that’s not always how real life goes. In this instance, we did not have a happy ending. Yes, we found our car, but it was already totaled. Our insurance company DID NOT give us what we were owed. As far as we know, justice has never been served.

Even though there was surveillance video from the gas station. Fingerprints in my car. Phone numbers and texts on their cell phone.

Let me be clear: I am not blaming the cops.

The following is from the Illinois State Police Department: The overriding responsibility of police agencies in the State of Illinois is to protect human life and property. When the risks to human life and/or property begin to outweigh the benefits of capture, officers should refrain or disengage from pursuits.

I would never want to put innocent citizens at risk during a high-speed chase, but our state has a “no chase policy” and these kids knew it.