Drama on the Homefront

Recently, my dad decided he wanted to get rid of his normal car (from this decade) and start driving his baby blue truck that is older than I am. That was fine with everyone, but since making the switch, his truck has been broken into not once, but TWICE in our [normally] safe Nashville neighborhood. 

I mean, seriously, THIS car?!!

I can guarantee you that this 1986 Nissan truck is the least nice car in the entire neighborhood, so I am not too sure why this robber keeps going back to it, but the e-mail my dad sent out recounting last night's events is absolutely hilarious. Enjoy.

Thursday night at the Carroll house and all is well. Old people go to bed early so Jane, Carlyle, and the youngster Aunt Bea were all neatly tucked under the covers reading our favorite books by 10:30. By 10:45 the three of us were sacked out and ready for what we thought was a full nights sleep.

At exactly 12:30 a.m. Aunt Bea let out a ferocious bark that shattered the night and sprang Jane and I to full attention.  The award winning dog leaped toward the window and continued the howling until I struggled out of bed and stumbled over to the window to see what all the commotion was about.  Squinting in the darkness, I made out a human figure sitting in my truck and the dash light on.  Something inside of me said "run" and so I dashed down the stairs, flung the back door open and started screaming at the top of my lungs in an all out race with the "unsub".  As I bounded up and down the stairs of our back patio, I saw a man dressed in all black with a face covered by a ski mask.  The final thought did not register and I took off at a full jog in pursuit of the villain

Aunt Bea led the way as we sprinted up the driveway, yet she stayed just behind me like any valiant canine would.  As the thief turned out of our security gate,  I in my extra large polo underwear and my Dunder Mifflin t-shirt picking up the pace.  Taking a right out of house meant I was running barefoot on Gardendale and chasing a much younger suspect....much like what happened just one week earlier.  As the criminal dashed down the street, I yelled out, "You can't outrun me." The absurdity of that statement seemed to stun him somewhat and he turned around stopped to get a good look at me.  The brief interlude shocked me back to reality and I myself halted and questioned the intelligence of chasing a potentially armed robber with no defense other than the deadly Aunt Bea who continued to lag behind.

The thief then seemed to put it into high gear and started distancing himself from me.  The thought in my mind continued to be that I would catch him over time, but the blistering gravel under my feet and the fact that I had only been awake 45 seconds played it toll on me.  The distance between us lengthened until he was quickly out of sight and I dejectedly walked back to the house.

After calling my neighbor and the police, we searched the area and came up with quite a stash that the villain had accumulated. Skate boards, dop kits, car chargers, cash, clothes, and running shoes,  etc were neatly placed in a wooded area near the street and our mailbox.  The policeman
thought he had a hiding place in order to come back later in case he was uncovered.

Today I have a scratchy throat (from yelling at the unsub) and a wounded ego.That makes Two times in two weeks I was soundly thrashed in a foot race.  I guess I'm not getting any younger, but the mind has not quite successfully delivered that message to my feet yet. I suppose there is always next week and next year....my wiser side tells me the results may be the same...

Carlyle

Thankfully everyone was safe and sound, but it does make for an entertaining story!

xoxo