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This is a story I should have told last year along with the Gregg Drives Motorcycle Into Pond story but that might have resulted in Gregg is an idiot overload. It happened the summer of '93. I was riding my bike to work regularly back then, trying to lose weight before my 20th reunion. One Tuesday I turned into home and looked toward my parking spot in the cul-de-sac. No car! It wasn't there! I was frantic. I rode down the street to check it. It wasn't anywhere. I asked the neighbors. They hadn't seen anything. I waited for Barb to get home to see if her car had broken down and she had taken mine. She finally drove up in her own car. My car had been stolen. I called my insurance company. I called the police and filed a report. It was too much to bear. I went to 7-11 to get some wine then called and ordered take out from Yen Ching, our favorite Chinese restaurant. The food came and Barb and I ate. With the mood we were in the bottle of wine disappeared in a flash so I got up to walk over to 7-11 and get another. 7-11 is just a block away. As I approached 7-11 I noticed a car parked in front of it. It looked like my car. "Come on," I thought, "right now all cars are going to look like my car." It looked sort of like my car but it wasn't my car. I got closer. The plate read, "2FWX183." It was my car! I got my keys out, hurried to unlock it, get in and drive away, casting suspicious glances at the indigents hanging out in front of the store. As I pulled away it came to me. I had parked it there myself. Sunday I had stopped off at 7- 11 on my way home from something or other. I went into the store, bought whatever it was I bought, came out, went on autopilot, and walked the short block home. Monday on my bicycle I hadn't noticed that the car was gone, although I usually looked down the block to check on it when I came home. Tuesday I did check. You've already heard the rest. How I missed it the first time I went to 7-11 I don't know. I drove it home, parked it, and went up to the apartment to tell Barb the good news. She was very supportive, hardly laughed at all. She really shouldn't hold in things like that. She looked like she might explode.
Now I had to call the police and tell them my car wasn't really stolen. You can guess how eager I was to do this. But it had to be done. So I picked up the phone and hit the redial button. I got a answer and launched into the story. The person on the other end of the line sounded very confused. She also sounded Chinese. I was telling my story to the order taker at Yen Ching. I should have kept this to myself. It might have killed Barb. She howled.
I got the real police on my second try. That's really not too bad. I could have done worse. Did you know that when you call in to report a stolen car nobody comes out to investigate, but when you call in to say you've found your car an officer has to come out in person to make a report? Don't make any snap judgements. It makes sense. It could be the crooks calling in to say the car wasn't stolen, but you can imagine just how eager I was to have an L.A. police officer come to my home and listen to me explain how stupid I am. There were serious crimes going on out there. This is L.A. for God's sake!
When the officer arrived I had to go through the whole thing again. Barb's favorite part was the call to Yen Ching. Next time she's sick someone repeat it to her. If laughter really is the best medicine she'll be up running laps before you get to the end of it. The officer was very polite, professional, and understanding. I was very apologetic. I hated to waste his time with something like this. He didn't crack a smile the whole time. He came close once once or twice but he kept it in check. Professional pride. He asked me his questions and filled out his report. Considering the state of affairs in Los Angeles a call like this might have been a welcome break. At last he finished his report and left.
Now am I really a complete idiot, or do I just do things only a complete idiot would do? Unfortunately this is not a hypothetical question. If you know the answer don't tell me. I don't want to know.
Gregg Writes
| 1989 | Besieged | Claire de Lune |
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| 1992 | Flood --- Riot --- Earthquake! |
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| 1993 | * Gregg and the Trail Bike * | A Stabbing | |
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| Under a Full Moon | Burt Rutan | I Meet a Bear | |
| 1994 | * 7.2! * | A Star Is Born | * My Car Is Stolen * |
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| 1995 | This Year I Flew Like A Bird |
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