Stolen goods: Portable entertainment

2009: I buy a new radio for the truck; someone breaks in and steals it.

2011: I buy a new radio for the truck; someone breaks in and steals it.

2012: I buy a new radio for the truck; someone breaks in and steals it.

Three times in the last four years, I have supplied new entertainment and/or pawning opportunities for someone who does not share my views as to the private ownership of movable property.

You know what? This is getting to be a little tiresome.

Which is not to say you get used to it, because you don’t. You just can’t get used to going out to your truck and finding the window smashed, the radio gone and in this last case, the dashboard half ripped out.

(Sour note: Back in the old days, anyone who tried to rip out a dashboard was asking for a hernia. Bright note: Today’s dashboards may pop out in order to allow easy access to the merchandise, but they pop back in just as easily. I salute you, automotive engineers).

Anyway, I am once again without movable entertainment. And I am slightly inconvenienced by this, seeing as how I don’t wear a watch and kind of count on the radio to keep me on time.

What I am not, really, is upset.

First of all, I’m not the only person this happens to, and I’m not just talking about in the city. I mean on my street. In my neighborhood, the rule of thumb is bolt it down or lose it, and that’s not even a sure thing. After all, anybody can buy a set of bolt cutters.

Also, I know I’m stacking the deck against me by parking on the street. There’s not much I can do about that, though. The garage is full of gym equipment, and besides, the truck doesn’t fit in there anyway.

And finally, it may have been stolen but I try not to lose sight that a radio is not a person. It is not alive. It cannot love. It is just a thing, and things are replaceable. I know what I’m talking about. Boy, do I ever.

That said, I think I’ll go without a truck radio for a while. Most of my trips these days are short, and I don’t mind the silence. And if I need to know what time it is, I can just put a sundial in the bed. Bolted down, of course.