Monday, December 10, 2007

www.whiteville.com

By JEFFERSON WEAVER
Staff writer

I turned the key, and it started again.

Lights flashed, the horn honked, and the 1,000 or so people in the shopping center stared. Thankfully – or regrettably – no one called 911 to report a large hairy man in a hat and suit breaking into my wife’s car.

I do not like car alarms.

I do not have an alarm on my truck; if something valuable is inside, I will have Duke with me, and whilst people will often disregard the sound of a car alarm in a parking lot, I guarantee no one will ignore the screams of the crackhead thief who sticks his hand through the window and meets Duke. Normally Duke is a sweet, genial dog, until he suspects someone is up to no good, when he develops a taste for human flesh.

Based on some of the studies I’ve read, alarms do not really stop determined thieves, at least not as well as a dog who acts like a combination of a werewolf and a chainsaw. Alarms are so common now people ignore them. Alarms do, however, draw attention to the fact your vehicle has been burglarized. For me, locking the door is enough security. A good lock, plus the poisonous snakes behind the seat, eliminate the need for an alarm.

I’m just kidding. I don’t have poisonous snakes in my truck.

At least, not often.

Years ago, a friend of mine – I’ll call him Willie – strongly suspected the guard at his place of employment was, ironically, a thief. When Willie found someone had rummaged through his truck one day, he was angry. Nothing was missing (which could not be said for several of his co-workers’ similar experiences) but Willie decided to take a pro-active stance on vehicle defense.

With a stencil, he carefully painted the words “CAUTION: LIVE SNAKES” on his toolbox and truck doors. As he passed by the guard shack the next morning and showed the suspect/guard his ID badge, the guard’s eyes got wide.

“Do you have a snake in there?” he asked.

“Not just one, but a couple,” Willie responded without batting an eye. “At least I guess they’re both in there.”
“I think that’s against the rules,” the guard muttered.

“You can get them out if you want,” Willie responded.

Willie never again had to lock his vehicle while he worked at that plant.

When we still lived in Wilmington, an attorney in our neighborhood bought a new Porsche. It was one of the first cars I ever encountered with an alarm. While I didn’t blame him for the option – his car cost more than our house, and our house wasn’t cheap – I did come to wish he’d selected a less sensitive alarm system.

Whilst walking my dogs one day, the late, great, legendary Tigger decided the hydrant beside the car needed marking. At the risk of being indelicate, I must note Tigger’s aim wasn’t great, and he hit the car.

Suddenly a sonorous voice instructed us to “MOVE AWAY FROM THE CAR. POLICE ARE BEING NOTIFIED. MOVE AWAY….”

I never heard the rest of it, because Tigger, who would tackle the Marine Corps with nothing but his teeth, dragged me home faster than that Porsche could ever be driven.

Naturally, the homeless guys in the park across from the attorney’s office found the alarm amusing.

They regularly walked past the Porsche and brushed the door, causing the horn to honk, the lights to blink, and the voice to order them away. It should be noted the attorney was far less tolerant of the homeless people than I was, and while I wasn’t very tolerant, but at least they thought I was fair.

But homeless people as cheap labor are a column for another day.

At this time of the year, car break-ins skyrocket. While people are Christmas shopping, other people are looking for deals in the parking lot. Hence, car dealers tend to sell a few more alarms close to the Christmas season. On any given day, I’ll bet you won’t go 10 minutes without hearing a car horn honk-honk-honk in any parking lot over two acres in size.

This isn’t necessarily because of thievery, but because many people, like myself, have a problem turning the darn things off.

I often forget to press the button on my beloved wife’s key chain and unlock the doors. Instead, I just blunder up there like I did with my old ’55 Chevrolet, lean slightly against the door in a rakish manner, insert the key – and wait for my wife to press the button to turn off the noisy, flashing alarm.

That accursed alarm took up quite a bit of precious woods-time the other day, since it drained Miss Rhonda’s battery to nothing. I replaced the battery, tightened and cleaned the connections, and voila, the car started again.

Naturally when I went back to check my work, I forgot that one can’t just use a simple key to unlock a car door anymore.

I do not like car alarms.

So for any thieves out there, please take note: if you break into my truck, it will produce far too little return for your time and investment. You won’t even get the thrill of setting off the alarm. The horn won’t honk, the lights won’t flash, and no voice will tell you to move away.

Rather than rely on a technological device that will do little more than draw attention to a crime just committed, I’ll count on you thieves to draw attention to yourselves. Being attacked by a barking, biting, slavering dog or sustaining multiple snakebites will cause a man to make far more noise than any old car alarm.

I’m just kidding about the snakes, of course. I’d never keep poisonous, ill-tempered snakes in my truck.
At least, not very often.

– Weaver is a staff writer with The News Reporter. He may be reached via email at jeffweaver@newsreporter.biz, or via telephone at 642-4104, ext. 227.