The Ides of November
There is a big snowstorm forecast for later today. Lots of lake-effect snow is expected. This section of Hillbilly Land can get blasted, not as bad as places like Buffalo, but it is bad enough. I have plenty of food in the house, as those living in the snow belt tend to make such preparations.
Once again, I am sitting at the library. As soon as I closed my truck door, I heard the yelping man. He is over by the church drinking a coffee. Next to him is a man with a bicycle weighed down by more packs and sacks than I could have imagined. I have no idea how he manages to peddle that contraption down the road, but apparently, he does. I can’t imagine him pushing that thing.
It is frigid outside today, so I raced to get into the warmth of the library as soon as I could. When I heard the yelping man and looked in his direction, I saw the man with the bicycle and someone lying on the asphalt. Against my better judgment, I paused to get a closer look. I could tell he was attempting to steal a catalytic converter from a truck in the parking lot. Bold move for 10:00 in the morning.
Now I have to deal with this nonsense. Do I approach him and ask what he is doing? That doesn’t seem to be the best idea. Perhaps I should just go inside and let the people at the front desk know what is going on. Since I do not see a police car in the lot, that seems to be the best choice.
The young woman at the front desk, decked out in a floral face mask, looked at me like I was from another planet. She could not understand that I was telling her that a crime was being committed in the library’s parking lot.
“What do you mean?”
“There is a guy in the parking lot, over by the church, cutting off the catalytic converter from a parked car.”
“What is a catalytic converter?”
“That is the thing that he is stealing.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?”
“Well, I thought you might call the police. Those things are expensive.”
“OK, thank you.”
“Yeah, sure.”
As I sat down, I knew she wouldn’t call the police. I have no idea what her deal is, but I bet she would care if they were cutting apart her car. I don’t know what else I am supposed to do. I guess I could call the police, but it was not my car. What incentive do I have to get involved?
As I fired up my laptop, I heard the yelping man. He is seeking shelter from the cold. I wonder what is going to happen to him tonight. The storm is supposed to be bad. I hope he and his crew find someplace warm. If they don’t, they are in for a bitter night.
A library employee just walked by me. She is viewing me with suspicion. I bet she talked to the woman at the front desk. Do they think I have lost my mind? Will they call a social worker to seek me out and check on me? Good luck with that. I sincerely hope they do not get a look at the first draft of the post I am now writing; like all my first drafts, it is disjoined with three or four spelling errors in every sentence. I am all about the scattershot method of writing. I just try to get the ideas down; there is lots of time to edit later. Grammarly will help me pick out all the comma splices and split infinitives. No worries.
I would like to get up and see if the master criminal is progressing with his bold daytime theft. I can’t leave my stuff unattended. It might be here when I get back, but it might not. Why would I take such a risk?
I usually try to type at least a thousand words each morning as I sit in the library. Some day I can get a lot more than that. The ridiculous 10,000-word days appear to be a thing of the past. I haven’t seen one of those for years.
Several homeless people are holding a conference behind me and to my left. I can’t hear what is going on; I know that one man seems to be talking while the others intently listen. I can’t take off my headphones to hear better; I am listening to The Car again. I would guess this is the 500th time I have heard it. I still think it is craptacular. The sound is not growing on me…at all.
I am approaching my 1,000 words, and it is about time to leave. I have lots of nonsense I have to attend to today. I would like to get most of it done before the storm hits.
This is the after-story…
When I walked outside, I saw no police. The man that was under the vehicle was gone. I think the owner will be shocked when they start their car and hear the result. It will be loud and expensive to fix.
I got in my truck and took my usual turn out of the parking lot. That is when I saw him, a guy strutting down the road with what appeared to be a catalytic converter in tow. What did I do? I called the police and gave them a description and location of this master criminal. I pulled over and waited to see what would happen. A few minutes later, a patrol car pulled beside him. He didn’t try to run; he stood still while they cuffed him.
Many of you probably think I should have called the police after the library worker blew me off. Letting her know that a criminal was working in the library parking lot should have been enough, but it clearly wasn’t.
What made me finally call the police? Sitting in my warm truck with the quiet engine, I realized that he could have stolen my catalytic converter, which was enough.
Is this story true? It is true enough. I found out later from a blurb in the newspaper that the guy they arrested told the police a story. He said that the owner of the damaged vehicle said he could have the catalytic converter, apparently as some sort of early Christmas present. The policeman stated that he found that suspicious. It is comforting to know that in this section of Hillbilly Land, a man can walk down the street with a stolen car part and be considered suspicious.
