We have had a rash of car break-ins lately. A few weeks ago Mr. & Mrs. Next Door had their window busted and her purse stolen and this morning Mr. & Mrs. Somewhere on the Other Side had theirs meddled with. Both times the alarms went off around 6:30am followed by the pitter-patter of hooligan feet. It is infuriating.
Naturally, I don't keep anything of value in my car. If someone really wants to take something I suppose they could jimmy the trunk where they will find 1.) a semi-flat dodge ball, 2.) a beach chair, 3.) a denim blanket that is literally too heavy to carry long distance, 4.) an emergency bag that holds a ratty pair of sneakers, an even rattier pair of flip-flops, a roll of toilet paper, a flash light with dead batteries, an old fleece pull-over that has camp fire ember holes burned into it and food that is so old it would kill them.
Now, I don't have an alarm on my car but I do have a very serious and effective theft deterrent.
Ruby St. Germaine. The wee lounge singer and former headliner of my car - now a scorned woman, a possible heroin addict, and practitioner of black magic - living under reduced circumstances in my cup holder. I guarantee one look through my window into the glazed and sooty face of Ruby would turn any derelict youth from a life of crime.