Only thing stolen: Sense of Security

I live in a pretty safe area. Our neighborhood has few crimes unless you count getting TP'd. A woman can walk alone late at night without any real concern. People actually leave their doors unlocked if they are just running a quick errand or walking the dog. We joke that we live in "the bubble"--a sort of Shangri-la place where the ugliness of the real world, thankfully, rarely intrudes.

So I am often pretty careless about locking my car when I pull into the driveway. Admittedly, I don't leave anything in it that's valuable, and my car is over ten years old with a peeling clear coat--it pretty much screams that it wouldn't have anything valuable in it at the best of times. Last night was one of those times I just didn't bother to hit the lock button. It was a weeknight. Quiet. Normal. Nothing to worry about.

When I wandered out to my car today to run an errand, I was baffled to see my glove compartment hanging open, the contents spilled on the floor and passenger seat, and CDs tossed carelessly on the driver's seat. It took me a few seconds to realize someone had "broken" into my unlocked car.

Like I said, I had nothing--absolutely nothing--of value there, so I didn't get that panicky feeling you get when you mislay your phone or your purse. I quickly realized the few things I did have in the car--a couple random CDs that I never listen to, cheap clip-on sunglasses, an ancient half-broken pair of binoculars that I used years ago to see if my kids' soccer teams were done practicing at the far end of the park when I arrived to pick them up--had been rejected by the thief. I picked them up and put them back in the console. Even the twenty or so cents in the coin slot hadn't been worth his trouble. And of course the bag of books I had in the back seat to donate to the Friends of the Library bookstore was still there. I somehow doubt thieves are big readers. He'd passed on my gym bag too. Go figure. Maybe it was because it was a repurposed book bag that only held a sweaty towel and a half-empty water bottle.

I derived a little bitter pleasure at the thought of the hapless thief riffling through my emergency tampon stash, assorted gas station receipts, drive-thru napkins, and the old supermarket lists that had cluttered my glove box and console box. All that adrenaline pumping through his system (I know it wasn't necessarily a guy, but let's face it, nine times out of ten, car thieves are young and male) for nothing. Nada. Junk in a junky old car. Na na, jerk! You got a big fat nuthin', which is what you deserve!

But my pleasure was short-lived. Because when I got back from my errand, I locked my car. As I will from now on, even though I don't plan on ever leaving anything valuable in it. The thief successfully stole one thing from me: my sense of security. He popped "the bubble".