A not-so-hypothetical tale of having a car stolen in Jo’burg – the Damask Dachshund story

Say you’ve decided to trade in your pile of crap car, after establishing that the cost of fixing it properly would end up being three times what the car is actually worth. A good decision, undoubtedly. So you head off to your regular dealership, and sign the papers to trade in the car and buy a new vehicle from them, to be delivered/collected the following week.

Say that weekend you have dinner at a lovely restaurant in an area famed for being not the most savoury of places of late. However, you return to your crap car two hours after dinner, and discuss with a mate how it seems Melville is not the thieving crack den you’ve been led to believe it was over the past two years. During your walk back to your car, you turn a corner to discover that your car is no longer in the spot you parked it a while earlier. In fact, it is nowhere to be found. 

You laugh. Perhaps in horror, perhaps in disbelief, perhaps at the irony of the fact that you and your friend had just been re-evaluating your opinion of Melville, and now you would have to admit that you guys had been right.

Because you have further plans that evening, you go through the motions before heading to the Parkview police station to report the crime.  You elect not to go to the Brixton police station, because two women (you and your mate) driving into Brixton at 22:00 on a Saturday night is like walking around your flat in the dark: you probably won’t hurt yourself, but the possibility exists that you could get badly hurt…like ripping open your shin on a sharp corner on a table you forgot was there.

Let’s assume the two somnolent, unwilling officers on duty at the Parkview police station say they can’t help you because their data capturer is off duty, at which point you decide to report your stolen car at a larger, and probably more efficient, police station. You head off to the Linden police station.

Say you arrive at the Linden police station, and you are treated relatively well by the officer on duty, who captures your details correctly except for an extra 0 in your identity number. Imagine, also, that during the half hour you spend relating the fucking unfair and bizarre tale of the theft of your vehicle, a woman arrives at the station to report an assault on her by her boss, and three drunk men arrive to report that one of their wives is ‘missing’ after jumping out of their car at a traffic light.

Imagine you are dropped off at home late on Saturday night sans remote control to your complex’s gate, forcing you to wake an 85-year old resident so that she can let you in. Think about the  wasted hours and wads of paper that lie ahead of you. Think about the insurance company’s suspicion that you orchestrated the whole event because so many cars get stolen every day in Joburg.

And imagine how much worse it could have been.

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6 Responses to A not-so-hypothetical tale of having a car stolen in Jo’burg – the Damask Dachshund story

  1. Ah, but imagine this: the car has not been stolen but towed. Towed by eager little car-repair gnomes off to their fix-up grotto, where they are excitedly re-building the engine with new parts, steam cleaning the dashboard, installing new seats and carpet, replacing the windshield, and giving you a tasteful understated new paint job in that silvery color with the sparkly bits in it? Stealthy gnomes! They’re everywhere!

    Ah, well, sorry to hear about the car. On the positive side, the paperwork will be good as a form of zen meditation. Beeeee the paperwork!

  2. boldly benny says:

    I’m sorry, this really sucks! My car was written off two years ago and it was the biggest nightmare. It wasn’t my fault but cost me so much money and I had to endure with insurance companies not paying the bank and the bank threatening to blacklist me.
    I truly hope it is as painless as possible. I am also glad to hear that no one was hurt.

  3. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    Yello women. The unfortunate victim in this not-so-hypothetical tale was Damask Dachshund – the role I played in this tale was merely the mate. So all sympathy should be directed to her.

    FGS,we too suspected the eager little car-repair gnomes – I thought only we know of them. I am sure the Dachshund is SO hoping for the ‘tasteful understated new paint job in that silvery color with the sparkly bits’.

    Beeeee the paperwork. I am laughing (in apprehension) at the look I can imagine on the Dachshund’s face at being told to embrace the paperwork in order to move to a higher plane. HAAHAAHAHAHHA. Just as well you live in South Carolina.

    Benny, that is a pretty terrifying comment. Are you sure you aren’t the bank? Do you think Segway’s are stolen for parts?

  4. boldly benny says:

    I freaking wish I was the bank – so I could piss people off by wielding my power! I hate banks!
    As for Segways – I’m from CT so I’ve seen a couple of them on bricks!
    On another note, have you watched Arrested Development. It is one of my favourite shows and one of the characters travels about in a Segway!

  5. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    Hahahah…Gob!!! The best!!! I love that show.

  6. Damask Daschund says:

    Ahhh, this sweet blog made me feel quite moved – thank you DBAWIW!

    FGS – I am *totally* and utterly sure that my car is with the car-repair gnomes, who are polishing it and fixing the final little shining star to the dashboard as we speak. Those little car-repair gnomes sure are busy in Johannesburg these days!!

    Benny, ja – cars are a pain, thanks for the wishes. It’s actually ok, but I just hate when people take stuff that isn’t theirs. It’s annoying.

    SEGWAYS! Aren’t they the answer? A golf cart would actually be first prize, with Segway as a close second.

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