Digital Diatribe

My car got broken into a while ago.
I’ve only just started to think about it, because the whistling sound from the door has only really started to piss me off recently from where the door frame has been bent back.
Driving around the city you rarely get above 50kph, so you don’t notice it.
Driving for 2 hours out west at speeds of over 100kph, where it is only 9 degrees celcius, you tend to hear it, and feel it a lot more.

But that’s not what I was thinking about.

This car has been in the family from new. Hence I know just about everyone that’s been in it.
Now that it’s been broken in to there is no telling what has gone on in the back seat any more.
I mean, I used to know. I was there.
But now I cannot in good conscience invite a woman back there without thinking that some filthy car jacking couple might have concieved their bastard children on my back seat.

Of course, I’ve had the car cleaned, but who’s to say that the cleaners didn’t do the same thing?
I mean, I found a silver ring down the back seat of my car soon after having it cleaned, and I’m damn sure it’s not part of the car.

I really wish somebody would just steal it and torch the thing. Purification by fire is what’s needed here.
That and the insurance payout.