On Getting Our Car Keyed

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March. They say it comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. I’m not sure the lamb part applies to Pittsburgh, but the lion seems right. Though actually, I don’t think I’d characterize it as a lion or a lamb, but something in between, more like some teasing, pink-faced monkey that steals your glasses and disappears with them into the trees, infuriating and magical. Or maybe an exotic bird you can hear calling but which refuses to be seen.

Last weekend, as the thermometer pushed 43 degrees, D and I found ourselves sitting with the kids on the front porch, soaking in the rays of sunshine warming us through the bare branches of the sycamore across the street. M decided it was warm enough for no jacket and refused to put it back on. D and I had a beer, sitting at the little white metal table taking turns eating saltines straight from the roll.

On Sunday I was suddenly taken with the need to organize the basement, getting rid of junk and excess furniture. And I’m gripped with a passion to take up home repair projects which have lain dormant for months–build those radiator covers I’ve got the supplies for, repaint the walls, re-tile the fireplaces, try out stencils, hire contractors.

The other day, on the first sunny 50 degree day, I take the kids on a long walk. I spot the first leaf buds on a bush, not yet green, and the scraggly trees are suddenly full of cardinals. Snow melts into icy mud; the roads are full of gaping potholes. The kids scream the whole way home, refusing to sit in the stroller but too tired to walk, hungry but impetuously pushing away snacks.

And today we wake up to find someone has keyed our car, a ragged, angry zigzag across one entire side, from front bumper to back, like a thunder bolt. A spring electric storm, March’s idea of a joke.

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23 thoughts on “On Getting Our Car Keyed

  1. Sounds like the March days I remember in Chicago when the longing for Spring became overpowering. But we usually had more snow and I would trudge thru it looking for our car – which snow-covered lump was it? No keying then, but sometimes all front side-windows (long gone from auto design) along a street would be smashed by a would-be thief looking for a radio. Today in Ashland (OR) the predicted high is low 70s and all the fruit trees are in blossom. And the Ruby-crowned Kinglets are singing.

    • Some people are just up to no good. But I guess things could be worse than getting keyed. Sounds like you’re a bit a head of us on the spring front–fruit blossoms and kinglets!–but we’ll catch up soon I hope.

    • WTF is right. Not much else to say about that. I’m trying not to fixate on why someone would do it and just take it as part of the randomness of the universe.

  2. Wow, that’s like vicious car keying! Like not like ‘I’m going to very discreetly take a key to your car in a nice even line because you parked to close to me’ but like a ‘I’m going to do some serious damage to your car because I hate life’ kind of car keying!! Or maybe a frustrated artist?? Anyway, sorry to hear but glad all else is okay!!

  3. I mean you look around and no one is there to blame! WTF is right. So, so very sorry. Such an unnecessary act of stupidity and thoughtlessness. I do hope you and the twins can enjoy the spring rushing in and stretch the legs and smile at the sun!

    • I know, we’re only left to imagine. Oh well, trying to get it out of my system with this post, trying to be calm and not care. Come on spring! I’m ready.

  4. From the height, I was waiting for an “it was the toddler” punch line. Still frustrating either way though. At least if it was a kid, you’d have a good embarrassing story like how my husband as a helpful preschooler decided to touch up the paint on his dad’s car. 😕

  5. Can totally relate to your walk home. Before Christmas I took my E and M to the woods, they spashed in the puddles and had a great time for a while but then they decided to put their gloved hands in the puddles, got wet and cold and screamed so much it was a little embarrising… couldn’t get their v muddy waterproofs off because they wouldn’t stand up, wouldn’t take dummies or snacks as too upset. In the end I just grabbed them, put them in their lovely clean buggy seats (the rest of the buggy is a state but I like to keep the seats clean) and walked v fast with two children howling, unstrapped, to the car. They cried all the way home, I wasn’t far off either! Sorry to hear about your car!

    • Yeah, i completely understand. Also, now that they are communicating more, they get really upset when I can’t understand them (or if they want somerhing but can’t get their way for whatever reason). Also embarrassing as i know a lot of people on that street. But anyway, everyone we passed on the way home seemed to go out of their way to be nice–people with kids understand.

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