5 Bizarre Lessons From Getting Your Car Stolen Multiple Times

Spoiler: it's not just about the car.

In the last ten months, my car has been stolen not once, but twice.

Not only did I know both thieves—I liked them, thought they were solid people. That’s the kind of trust fall that lands you face-first in a police report. If that sounds like the setup to a bad joke, welcome to my life: a tragicomedy where I'm somehow both the straight man and the punchline.

Let me share the lessons I've learned from this clusterfuck of automotive theft, because maybe you can avoid my particular brand of vehicular suffering. Or at the very least, you can feel better about your own life choices, because the whole “your parents are getting old” and “having a career crisis” thing I was giving off wasn’t enough, am I right?

Here are five things I've learned the hard way (so, so hard) about car theft.

Lesson 1: When You Know Your Car Thief, It's Even More Awkward

Ever had that moment when you're trying to decide if filing a police report against someone you know makes you a narc? Yeah, me too.

Turns out, the most dangerous person to your vehicle isn't some random criminal—it's that sketchy acquaintance who knows where you keep your spare key. In my case, it was someone I'd actually helped before, which is the kind of irony that makes you want to scream into a pillow for three straight hours.

The first time it happened, I got a text: “Hey man, needed to borrow your car, will bring it back.” Like he'd taken a fucking sweater, not a $3,000 piece of machinery.

When the car finally reappeared six days later, it had a new dent, smelled like weed, had bullet casings from a .22 caliber gun— and Pokémon cards, because of course.

I chewed him out and blocked him out of my life a couple of weeks after the realization that a spare key had also gone missing around that same time. Nine months later, my car was missing from my assigned parking space, as was my former friend. And while the vehicle was found a month later — more on that in a bit — and I never found hard evidence directly linking him to the crime, well… yeah.

The second time?

It was from a hook-up.

Look. There are many details I’m leaving out, and I recognize that this probably leaves you with more questions than answers. However, it’s a little too raw and real right now, and this is a blog post about car theft, not the worst hookup I ever had that ended in a stolen car and an existential crisis.

I’ll say this: I learned that trust can be misplaced, and that one needs to be cautious about who has access to your keys and life.

Do I wish I didn’t have to learn that lesson so hard? Do I have sudden, graphic revenge fantasies which will surely culminate in a sick infatuation with needing justice? Sure, to both.

If my dad were lucid, he would probably wrap up his three hour brow-beating with something like "知人知面不知心" which loosely translates to "you may know someone's face but not their heart"—though in my case it's more like “you may know someone's face but not their tendency to commit grand theft auto.”

Trust your gut, folks. If someone makes you uncomfortable, they probably shouldn't know where you park.

You definitely shouldn’t pick them up from the Warm Springs BART station.

Lesson 2: AirTags Are Great (Until They're Not)

Everyone thinks those tiny Apple tracking devices are magical crime-solving tools. For about eight hours, they kinda are!

The reality of AirTags is far less of a Disney movie and more of a psychological torture device:

• They only work if your thief stays within range of other Apple devices

• Police response time isn't exactly synchronized with your real-time tracking updates

During theft #2, I had AirTags attached to my car and my keys. He never found the one in the car, and the Hayward PD was able to find my vehicle hours later without any problem. That’s great.

As for the AirTag on the keychain, it is currently somewhere on the side of Highway 92, having been promptly chucked out the window once its purpose was realized.

The lesson? AirTags help, but they're not magical crime-solving buttons. More like: front-row tickets to watching your property get taken on a joyride.

Lesson 3: Anti-Theft Devices Only Work Against Honest Thieves

I bought The Club after the first theft. You know, that red steering wheel lock that screams, “THIS CAR OWNER WATCHED TOO MANY ‘90s COMMERCIALS.”

Here's the fatal flaw in my brilliant security upgrade: The Club only works if the thief doesn't have your keys. When they do have your keys — because they “borrowed” them the first time, or you put them in the place you always put your keys, because IRONICALLY YOU DON’T WANT TO LOSE THEM, that bright red deterrent is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

After theft #1, I installed The Club, changed where I hid my spare key, and felt pretty smug about my new security system. After theft #2, I realized I'd basically just added a free Club to whatever chop shop eventually got my Mazda.

I've now gone full paranoid. Keys sleep in a [UNDISCLOSED], inside a locked box, inside my pillowcase, under my head, inside a second pillowcase wrapped in emotional trauma. I'm one bad night away from swallowing them before bed and just dealing with the consequences in the morning.

Lesson 4: The Police Report Is Just the Beginning of Your Paperwork Hell

Nobody warns you about the administrative nightmare that follows car theft. It's like the DMV and your insurance company joined forces to create a paperwork obstacle course designed to break your spirit.

Filing the initial report is just the appetizer in a seven-course meal of bureaucratic bullshit. There are the insurance claim forms. The temporary transportation forms. Clearing the vehicle release hold from Fremont PD, then again from Hayward PD. The damage assessment. The endless phone calls where you explain, again, it’s H before S, not S before H, and oh my GOD IT’S SIR NOT MA’AM, YES I *DO* GET THAT I SOUND LIKE A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL ON THE TELEPHONE aaaannnnd everything is fine.

When my car was recovered for the second time, an officer called me late at night to inform me that they'd found it. Instead of feeling relieved, my first thought was “but I don’t have a spare key.” My second thought was then, “Holy FUCK, now I have to fill out more forms.”

The real crime is the paperwork. Remember that.

No, just kidding, it really is the stolen vehicles.

Lesson 5: You'll Either Become Jaded or Develop a Weird Zen Perspective

After getting your car stolen multiple times, you reach a crossroads: become completely jaded about humanity or develop some bizarre philosophical acceptance about material possessions.

I've landed somewhere in the middle—I now assume everyone is a potential car thief, but I'm also oddly at peace with the understanding that everything is temporary, especially Mazda ownership in my neighborhood.

The second time my car disappeared, I just sighed and thought, “Yeah, that tracks.”

Is that healthy? Probably not. But it's a lot less exhausting than raging against the universe, which is something I’ve caught myself doing these past couple of days.

When people ask if I'm angry, I just shrug and say, "It's just material possessions." Then I go home and scream into that same pillow, because of course I'm fucking angry, but what good does it do?

If this ever happens to you, may my pain be your how-to guide.

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So yeah—those were my five bizarre lessons. May you never need them. The weirdest part? Each time it happens, I learn something new about myself—like how much mental energy I've wasted on material possessions, or how quickly I can go from "namaste" to "I will end you" when I see my car's location ping on someone else's Apple device.

If nothing else, I hope this makes your day seem a little better by comparison. And maybe, you'll double-check where you keep your spare key tonight.

BONUS LESSON #6:

If your car is stolen on a Friday, do not assume that, since the Police Department lobbies are closed on weekends, you won’t be charged full price by the tow lot. Because you absolutely will, which, in the suburbs, is approximately $90 per day. You’re supposed to speak with a dispatched community officer in person if you need those vehicle holds cleared. So you know.