My truck has been found, far enough *away* from home that perhaps we'll be lucky enough to not have to worry about a repeat visit from the thieves:
A woman was arrested driving it, but she "doesn't know who gave it to her."
She, or the ghost-entity that "gave" her my truck decided to drive it hard, knocking it out of alignment, tearing the tonneau cover off, scratching/scraping something along the inside of the bed (adding some dings as well), while adding hundreds of miles to the odometer. She, or the anonymous truck-giver also attempted to add some window tint, "attempted" being the operative word.
Miss-Happy-to-Drive-a-Truck-that-She-KNOWS-Isn't-Hers has a thing for cheesy puff treats, McDonald's and chain smoking:
Blech. And while the car seat, my iPod Nano, our GARMIN, and my house keys were ditched, my 80's compilation c.d.'s were on heavy rotation in my cd player.
Great, the truck thieves like 80's pop and hair bands just like I do.
Our local Ford dealership is babying my truck this week, replacing the windshield and rear bumper, detoxing (er, "using odor neutralizer on") the interior, repairing all the paint, my rear-view mirror, getting the truck back into alignment, doing an oil change, and detailing the interior. New plates are being sent, and I'm on the look-out for another Nano and GARMIN (so I'm predictable loyal, sue me), and hopefully sometime next week I'll be back to driving **~MY~** truck.
I'll be chucking the cd's. Sure, I'll make new ones, but I need some symbolic sense of closure.
Sorry Sony CD-Rewritable disks.