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Tell Us Your Car Theft Story

CountersteerYour true stories of good and bad things that happen in cars.

As a car owner, I don’t think there’s a worse feeling in the world than walking to your parking lot and discovering that your car just isn’t there.


I’ve never had a car stolen, thankfully. The closest I came, I guess, was when some asshole broke a window to steal a garbage $15 iPod charger thing I had plugged in. (Replacing the window cost a lot more than that.)

But while modern cars are incredibly tough to steal without the keys, nearly 700,000 cars were still stolen in 2014, which is heartbreaking to think about.


Do you have a story about a stolen car? It doesn’t matter whether it your car, or a family member’s car, or a friend’s. Car theft sucks, but it almost always comes with a crazy story—not that that’s any consolation.

We’re well versed in this kind of thing at Jalopnik, thanks largely to the time our own Jason Torchinsky’s yellow Beetle was stolen and then found by you fine readers. But not everyone’s so lucky.

What’s your car theft story?

Editor-in-Chief at Jalopnik. 2002 Toyota 4Runner.

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When I lived on the west side of the city of Buffalo several years ago (prior to it being reclaimed by hipster folk, when houses were still available for $40k) I went out to go to work one morning and my shitty ass ‘94 Civic CX hatchback (5sp manual, no power steering or A/C from factory) was gone. I asked my girlfriend if she moved it, to which she politely reminded me that she avoided driving it at all costs. I called the police who told me to call the impound yards and then if they didn’t have it to find my own ride down to the police station to report it stolen (A+).

On the way to the police station, a tow truck driver asked why my car was behind his building. We went there to this sketchy ass dead end about 10 miles away with a police escort to make sure I was going to get mugged and found it left in a bunch of brush in a field, screwdriver in the steering column. I had the steering column rebuilt and continued driving it because fuck it.

That said, I got it back in the evening a couple weeks later and the morning after, I woke up at 6am in a blind panic to check on the car. I found a 300 pound woman rigging the lock again and breaking in right as I looked out the window. I ran outside in nothing but my underwear with a baseball bat and starting screaming something along the lines of “What the fuck are you doing with my car?” to which she responded “I’m just trying to go to the bathroom,” at which point I chased her down the road in my underwear with a baseball bat.

Later that day, I am an alarm installed with a blinky dash light and never had any other issues. Also, I moved as quickly as I possibly could after that.