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stealing cars to move to Portland Many years ago, I lived in Washington State, and during that time found myself in a relationship with two very attractive women who were the polar opposite of each other. One was tall, quiet, calm and seemingly sane while the other was small, loud, dramatic and clearly insane. I got it in my head to move them both to Portland, and having little money at the time, needed to find a way to transport us, and our belongings there. I won’t say I was so broke I couldn’t afford to rent a moving truck, but I will say that transportation in general was something that needed to be addressed before the move could take place. Living where we were in Washington, I hadn’t really needed a vehicle, and truth be told I wouldn’t need one while living in Portland either, but it was the getting there part where it was going to be at least convenient, if not completely necessary. At that time in my life, I was not averse to stealing whatever I needed, and came upon a simple but effective scheme to acquire a vehicle. This was many, many years ago – so many that I won’t be talking about using the computer to search classified ads – but I’m sure the scheme would be just as easy to pull off today as it was back then. Using a local periodical that was focused specifically on selling cars, trucks, boats, motorcycles and so on, I found a car that I thought would have no trouble making the trip to Portland without breaking down. Using a pay phone, I contacted the owner, and arranged to meet somewhere close by so that I could test drive the vehicle they were trying to sell. The very first person I called agreed to meet me, and thirty gut-wrenching minutes later I was sitting in the passenger seat of a Volkswagen I was supposed to steal. The owner/seller drove around briefly, explaining something complicated about the exhaust system to me, while I sat and tried to get the tension to leave my body. When we pulled into a parking lot so I could get behind the wheel, I knew what I needed to do was jump in the car and take off before the owner could get in on the passenger side, but I couldn’t do it. I chickened out, telling the driver that I was no longer interested, and then quickly walked away. The next time I set up a meeting, it was also to check out a Volkswagen. I don’t know why I was so enamored with the vehicles, except to say that I thought they would not be flashy, or draw attention, and that there were plenty of people driving them in Portland at the time. If I was going to be in a stolen vehicle, I didn’t want to stand out, and getting a Volkswagen seemed like the answer to that. I remember showing up at our meeting place, just as nervous as I had been the first time, but determined to pull it of nonetheless. Greeting the owner with a smile, I suggested we make our way off the main road, and do some cruising through quieter areas of town. I hopped in the drivers seat immediately, and we were off for a very short but tense drive into one of the nearby neighborhoods. I tested the breaks and steering, asked ridiculous questions about the car that made it sound like I was seriously interested, and then finally pulled over and stated that I would like to look under the hood. Without putting the car in park, or even undoing my seatbelt, I reached over and grabbed the door handle, throwing open the door and acting as if I were preparing to step out. Maybe the woman sitting next to me wasn’t paying close attention, or perhaps she was just anxious to be polite, but she stepped out of the car, and into the street without even hesitating. I remember she did the most perfect thing in the world too – put the proverbial cherry on top, if you will – and shut the passenger door behind her. I watched her take a couple of steps, looked down like I was pretending to search for the hood release lever, then pulled my leg back in, and the door shut behind it. Without so much as a glance towards the owner of the car, I pushed down on the gas pedal, and sped off. I only looked in the rearview mirror once as I pulled away, but what I saw, was the woman waving her hands in the air like she’d been shipwrecked on an island, and was glimpsing a rescue boat for the first time in weeks. I used the Volkswagen to begin moving girlfriend #1 to Portland the very next day. I think it actually took us two trips back and forth, to get everything shifted from one place to the other, but we managed to do it all in a car that was very hot. The car was also not in the greatest shape, it turned out, so when it came time to move girlfriend #2 to Portland I decided to ditch the Volkswagen and get another car. This time I chose something that was still non-descript, but had a value of over $10,000. The first person I contacted this time around set up a meeting with me, but on the day of called to cancel, explaining that someone the night before had taken it for a test drive and hit a deer. My ride out of town had sustained serious damage and would need to be repaired before it could be put back on the market. Of course, I wasn’t interested in stealing something that had been in a wreck, so I went back to the paper and found another likely candidate. This time I agreed to meet the people at their home, driving the Volkswagen and parking it a few blocks away before approaching the house on foot. Getting introductions and pleasantries aside, we made our way across their front lawn, to the vehicle waiting at the curb. It was a Mazda this time, and I’ll never forget how good the car looked after driving that Volkswagen nearly into the ground. The sight of it gave me confidence, and that is how I proceeded. The owner got in and started the car, to let it warm up a bit, and this time I asked right away to see the engine. He pulled the hood-release lever, I lifted the hood, and after a few minutes of quiet contemplation stated that I was ready to take it for a test drive. The driver’s side door was open, but the passenger’s was not, and I recall leaving the chore of closing the hood to the owner, so that I could get in and get his door locked before he could reach it. That is exactly what I did, and this time I waited until he was at the door and trying to get in before I drove off. Unlike the woman, he only threw his hands up into the air once, with what I am guessing was either confusion or resignation, and then I was taking a corner and driving away with another stolen vehicle. Karma or bad luck played a role in the selection of this particular vehicle, though, as I began experiencing problems with it right away. It turned out the owner had been in an accident, and not only was the airbag completely missing, the vehicle was also having electrical problems. Sometimes it would start, but sometimes I’d have to pop the hood, get out, jiggle the battery cable, and then try it a few more times before it would finally come to life. This was a minor inconvenience I would learn to live with during the very short time it was in my possession. With the Mazda, I moved my second girlfriend to Portland, and then made the mistake of keeping it for a while. What I should have done at the time, was park it on a busy street and leave the keys in it, so someone else could take it and get caught with it later, but instead, I continued to drive it. Months later, I would get pulled over near the Oregon Coast, and wind up in jail for Grand Theft Auto, but that’s another story for another time. |
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