Sometimes, All You Can Say Is Oy!

Ah, a reason to blog on the personal side, again.

It has been, to say the least, an interesting past 36 hours, with the promise of a little more to come.

Have you ever had your car vandalized or broken into? I have. Three times, now, in fact. Two of them are ancient history, and mostly forgotten – although the second does inform my opinion of folks who like to break into places and steal stuff … and that’s why if I ever find one, they’ll be lucky if they wake up in a hospital. (I’ll let my readership chew over just what that means.)

However, this is the first time I’ve ever had anyone tinker maliciously with the mechanical workings of my car. I’ll put this as baldly as my skull is – I don’t think they were trying to blow me up (and my mechanic says this wouldn’t have done) … but I don’t know they weren’t, either. How about that for a thought to have to sleep on ...

A little background, first, to set the stage …

I lead a weekly bible study at my church, Wednesday mornings starting at 6:00 am local (Eastern). Typically, we run ‘til about quarter of 7. Just a nice little way to start the morning for the three or four of us who come. Donuts, coffee and good talk/discussion over the Word.

Well, this past Wednesday we were walking out to our cars afterward when we noticed a smell of gasoline. We were standing closer to my car, so naturally started looking there. It might’ve been something and might not have. It looked like there was a bit of a spill around the vicinity of my rear tire, but it was dry, not wet. I got down and looked underneath to see if I could see anything still dripping, but there wasn’t. Still, I thought I’d run it over to the mechanic’s – who was not far and would be opening fairly soon – just to be sure.

So I got in and attempted to start the car. It tried to catch but didn’t quite get there, so I tried again while pumping the pedal. A sudden series of honks made me look up to see that Scott – my study partner that morning, who’d just started to pull out in his truck – had stopped and jumped out of car, motioning frantically for me to stop with an almost frightened look on his face. As the car still hadn’t come close to starting, I immediately got out to hear him tell me that gas had come gushing out like a “sprinkler” from the bottom of my car as I tried to crank it. I walked around, and sure enough there was a huge flow running out from underneath.

Talk about a “holy shit!” moment.

Well … I made arrangements with my mechanic to tow the car to the garage and check out what could be wrong. I’ve had more reassuring news than what I got. “Someone yanked the fuel line off of your fuel filter,” I was told.

0_o

I asked for clarification, and sure enough got it. Per my mechanic, this was not an accident. Couldn’t be. The way the fuel system is set up on my car, that line is either properly secured, or you’re going nowhere – the pressure on the fuel line means that if it isn’t properly secured, it’s gonna pop. Right away – as in immediately. Won’t even get the engine started, cuz it’ll immediately starve. (I questioned very seriously on this point – I needed it explained with certainty.)

>_<

In a way, it was reassuring. I had recently had that filter changed, and it was hard not to suspect … well, you know. And my mechanic’s good, to be trusted. But that leaves an ugly alternative.

And frankly, there is sense to that. No hint of such a thing previously with my car. What the mechanic said about how it could happen. Oh … and my church has an unfortunate history of vandalism on the property and of break-ins of cars (generally of the smash & grab sort) in the parking lot. Did I mention that? Youth gangs around the community are generally (and not unreasonably) suspected. Heck, it wasn’t even the first time I’d found such evidence of vandalism there, myself. Never expect it to happen directly to you, tho.

Occam’s Razor says that, as you slice away the provable stuff, what’s left – no matter how improbable – is what likely happened. And old Occam was telling me the improbable had once again struck.

Well. That’s not a comfortable place to be. I’m still not quite sure where to put this in the table of life experiences. Like I said, I don’t think it was personal, that the mutt/s who did this were out to physically harm me; I just don’t have those kinds of enemies (I don’t think). Possibly, it was someone trying to steal my gas (that was what the mechanic first thought, when he saw it). More likely, it was just a junior hoodlum (or more) acting like the animal they are.

Nevertheless, it isn’t hard to believe I got a bit lucky in the end, because it’s not a great stretch to imagine a whole lot hotter situation where gas is involved …

So tonight I’ll talk to the police. Maybe it’ll bring a little heightened concern, and do the situation some good. Maybe even offer a little reassurance.

We’ll see.