My Car Was Stolen. My Car Was Stolen. — by Dan Lynn

By Dan Lynn

My first car was a 1983 Mazda RX7 GLX. Silver exterior, red leather interior, stick shift, fully loaded, with that unique RX7 rotary engine. It was the kind of car you'd walk away from, then turn around and take one more look at before you went into a store.

I loved that car.

One evening I came out of the AT&T building in Short Hills, New Jersey, and couldn't find it. I figured I'd forgotten where I parked. I walked the lot twice. Then it landed: someone had stolen it.

A few days later the state police called. They'd found it in Newark. It was sitting in a junkyard, and I could come pick it up whenever I liked.

I drove over with my dad. The car was completely stripped — everything gone, even the seats. The ignition switch had been pulled out, so there was nowhere to even put my key. The junkyard owner walked over and started it with a screwdriver.

I flipped over a milk crate, set it where the driver's seat used to be, sat down on it, and drove my once beautiful car home — my father following behind me the whole way.

Insurance paid to put it back together. New seats, new ignition, all of it. And it looked exactly the way it had before.

But, it just never felt the same.

My next job with AT&T was down in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania. One evening I came out of the building and couldn't find my car.

I knew instantly. Not confusion this time — recognition. Same car. Same kind of parking lot. Different state.

That time I never got it back. A few years later the Pennsylvania State Police called: they'd found it along the SEPTA tracks in Philadelphia. The trooper said whoever took it probably wanted the rotary engine — they were popular for street racing. I told him I didn't own the car anymore. The insurance company did.

He said okay, and hung up.

That was it. The car I loved was officially gone forever.

I bought another one — a black 1987 RX-7 Turbo 2. Beautiful car. It was never quite the same though. And a couple of years later we had our first child, and the sports car chapter of my life quietly closed. It was SUV time.

If there are some lessons in this, the first is to enjoy it while you have it and the second is to keep a photo of your license and your insurance claim number handy. Luckily, I did. And, I needed it. Twice.