How it feels to have your car stolen

Those of you who follow me on Twitter may have seen that, on Friday, my car was stolen. I got home from work as usual and there was a different car in his usual space. Suspecting Rich had moved it for some reason or other, I asked him where the car had gone but he had no idea. It had just disappeared. 

As you can imagine, I was pretty devastated. I can't actually drive right now (although I am having lessons), but I bought my car a little while ago from a colleague who was moving to Australia. I actually posted all about it when I bought him. I called him Ernie, although I'm sure everybody knows you should never name anything, or you'll become far too attached!

I never even got to drive him, although he had L plates on. Who steals a car with L plates on? Horrible people, that's who!
In a way, I felt like I had a play to part. The car has been parked outside my house forever, so the theives have probably been watching for a while. It seems to have been a professional operation. His battery was completely dead, and there was no smashed glass, so I wasn't sure how they'd taken him. When we looked closely at the road, we could see scuffs and scrapes where his wheels had been. It's pretty evident that they had towed him away. 

Although I'm pretty upset, there's no use dwelling on it. He's gone and crying isn't going to make a difference. Maybe I'll be able to buy an even better one. Trust me to have my first car stolen. It's like my engagement rings all over again.