Here’s to the guy who broke into my car in Mt. Airy and didn’t steal a thing

Two nights ago, right in front of my house, someone broke into my car. Well, he didn’t actually break in. He kind of opened the door after I left it unlocked, so I guess I unwittingly helped the …

What do you call a guy like him, anyway? A perp? A doer?

No, I guess you’d call him — and I know this because I once worked in police radio — a suspect. Although in this case, he wouldn’t really be a suspect. He’d be a criminal, because he was in my car rummaging through my things, and that’s a crime.

A teachable moment (for my car)

I’m not upset, though. I guess you’re wondering why.

Well, part of the reason is that the suspect, the doer, the car-breaker-inner — or whatever you want to call him — helped to initiate my new car to the Philadelphia way.

Now, my car knows what to expect while living in Philly, and I have my friendly neighborhood thief to thank for that.

The other reason I’m not upset is that the guy was a nincompoop. He had to be, because he went to the trouble of breaking into my car and he didn’t even take anything. That’s right. Nothing was missing.

Frankly, I don’t know whether to be insulted that he found no value in my valuables, or relieved that he just wasn’t up to the task. If he’d worked harder, maybe he would’ve found something. If he’d stuck with it, perhaps he could’ve succeeded. But when you’re a guy who breaks into cars and you can’t find anything in a Camry that reeks of the new-car smell, I can only conclude that you’re completely incompetent.

Therefore, the guy who broke into my ride is in need of my compassion, not my wrath.

What he didn’t take

The fact that he rifled through the CD-storage compartment and left behind my Michael Jackson, Donnie McClurkin and Public Enemy compact discs is a reflection of his poor music tastes.

His failure to find the quarters in the faux ashtray speaks volumes about his inattention to detail.

Missing the eyeglass-storage compartment was sheer idiocy.

Failing to take my used tube of Vaseline means he clearly prefers dry skin.

But the thing that was really unforgivable was his inability to locate the trunk lever.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I was hit by the Homer Simpson of car break-ins. And I actually derive great joy from the fact that he was too dumb to open the trunk. He probably uttered a Simponsesque, “D’oh!” as he desperately sought the correct lever. He likely wished for a donut to help energize his tiny brain.

But after finding Starbucks napkins where he’d hoped to see a portable GPS, I imagine he slithered out of my car like the snake he is, and shivered on the cold walk home.

Not the first time, I suspect

No doubt, this ingenious thief is the same one who broke into my neighbor’s car, took the money from a very expensive purse, and rather than selling the pocketbook, threw it away.

Clearly he is no Einstein, but at least he’s considerate. He always closes our car doors after breaking in. I, for one, am grateful for that little courtesy. I’m not so sure about our cars, though.

When I look into my car’s headlights nowadays she looks downcast, almost as if she knows she’s been violated.

I wish I could end the story there, but I can’t. This guy has done at least two other car break-ins over the last week or so, which means he’ll probably come back. Boobs like him always do. Unfortunately, he doesn’t understand my neighbors.

We’re energized

We’ve organized into all night shifts in order to watch our cars and homes. Our block captain, who also happens to be my wife, has communicated the situation to everyone. We are not going to be caught off guard.

I wish I could say the same for our friendly neighborhood car thief. But if this guy had to bring a brain to a thought fight, he’d be unarmed.

And that is the biggest shame of all.