I hardly write about my adventures anymore, because I have been living in China where the opportunities for adventures are few.  Now, I'm back in America where the adventures are like taxis in Shanghai:  You can't leave home without getting in one.

 

Stuggling to make a living, the thought occured to me, "what kind of crime could I do to make big money right away?" 

 

The answer appeared one day, like an answer to prayer, through Craig's List, where people find everything.  It was an ad for "asset recovery", which really means stealing cars back from people who can't pay for them so you can get a reward from the lenders.  It can be dangerous in a country where people possess guns and a willingness to fight for their hard-earned belongings.

 

Despite the warnings of friends and family, I allowed my sense of adventure to take control once again and took the offer to ride with one of the legally-sanctioned criminals for a day. 

 

I conjured up images of the video game, Grand Theft Auto, as I visualized myself picking locks of car doors and peeling out down the street as bullets zinged through the windows, barely missing me as I smoked the tires in a smoke screen, blocking the line of fire and screeching around street corners in a flurry of bullets......

 

Here's what really happened.

 

I showed up at the required ungodly time of 7:30 in the morning to sit in on the morning briefing by the crime boss.  He handed out the assignments for the first round of "Grand Theft" for the day, I was linked up with a driver in a wrecker-tow truck, and we were off on our way to find the first victim. 

 

No doubt, little did the poor car owners know their cars were about to be stolen, assuming we could find them, of course.  On the other hand, guys like the repossessors are not hired until the owner has been contacted mulitiple times for not paying their loan.  That's the justification, anyway.

 

After three attempts to find cars, we finally spotted one of the cars in an apartment parking lot, but it wan't easy to get to.  The car was parked within the fenced-in area of a secure apartment complex with a security gate at one end and an automatic gate on the other. 

 

We knew the guard would never let us pass through to take a tenant's car, so we waited patiently outside the automatic exit gate for a car to come out, safely out of sight from the security gate.  When one finally did, we simply drove into the complex through the open exit gate as it closed behind us.  There seemed to be no visible TV camera to blow our stealth move.

 

Now, we had to make it to the car undetected by security or the owner, lift the car with the towing bar assembly, and pull it out of the gate without getting spotted or caught by anyone.  Once we were out of sight, we would be legal.  Afterall, we were hired because someone hadn't paid for the car, and taking it back was technically legal, but the process of taking it, or stealing it back, wasn't legal; that's the dilemma.  Then, get away without getting shot by the owner, a security guard, or picked up by the cops for illegally tresspassing on private property.

 

It was like a game but with real, living characters that don't pop back for another game later if they get shot.

 

My host for the day was named Jeremy, and he was, in fact, an ex-cop.  I felt a lot safer knowing that, in a way, but the thought of a guy chasing us down the street, shooting at us didn't make my heart beat any slower as we quietly approached the car. 

 

"Your job is to watch the doors and windows of the apartment for people or guns," said Jeremy, his eyes straight in front of him as he drove the wrecker slowly toward our prey.  I scanned the apartments for any sign of the enemy.

 

Nothing, so far. 

 

I could feel my body tensing up.  There was a slight tremor inside me from head to foot.  I knew it was fear welling up inside of me that would try to take over my ability to move my hands and legs, like I described in the hang glider story earlier.  Though I should expect it, I never do.  I had to consciously fight it back. 

 

Damn it!

 

Jeremy was silent, like a lion ready to pounce on a wildebeast at the watering hole as he slowly drove by the car to get the towing bar in front of the car.  I watched through the window and tried to beat the fear back down.

 

Then, he quickly backed the truck directly in front of the car and lowered the bar so it would slide underneath the car's tires in the front.  He had a remote control device he used to manipulate the bar from inside the truck.  Jeremy was obviously a highly skilled car thief.  The bar was smooth, quiet, and found its target in less than fifteen seconds. 

 

"Out of the truck and keep your eyes open," he said.  I bailed out of the passenger side of the truck with my back to him and watched intently.  I felt like a guard without a gun.  Helpless.

 

Suddenly, one of the doors opened up directly in front of me and out stepped one of the biggest black guys I had ever seen.  He was big!  He could easily have played football for the Dallas Cowboys. 

 

He wasn't holding a gun, but he was walking straight for me! 

 

Shit!

 

I stood my ground and smiled as he walked up to me.  "How are you?" I asked. 

 

"I want that jacket," pointing at my chest.  I was wearing a New York Yankee baseball team jacket, the same one I often wore in Shanghai.  It was a real one.

 

I thought he was going to take it away from me, and didn't know whether to act tough and fight the son-of-a bitch or act friendly and hope like hell I didn't get shot or beaten up and lose my jacket in the ordeal. 

 

I decided to act friendly.

 

I watched for a gun, but still he didn't reach for anything in  his pockets.  My stomach was somewhere around my throat. 

 

Finally, he smiled and pointed again, "I like yo Yankee jacket," 

 

It was then I noticed the New York Yankee baseball cap he was wearing.  "Ah, yeah.   Thanks, dude," I said waving him off to belittle the compliment and at the same time, take his attention off Jeremy as he was attaching the tie-down straps to the tires of the car we were stealing. 

 

The big guy didn't seem to be paying attention to Jeremy at all.

 

A big smile stretched across his face, and I could tell I had just made a new friend and fellow Yankee's baseball fan.

 

I was relieved.

 

"Get in," yelled Jeremy.  He had finished strapping the tires down to the bar in less than a minute, and, by the sound of his voice was anxious to get out of there.

 

I waved at the big guy and hopped back into the truck.  Jeremy stepped on the gas, but the truck moved away slowly.  As it turned out, the car was a front-wheel drive, and we had hooked in to the rear tires.  There was no other way to get the car out without breaking in and driving it out, but we didn't have a key simulator, and it would have taken too long to hot-wire it.  Jeremy had made a split decision to drag it out to a safe distance, unhook it, turn it around, and haul ass.

 

The front tires squeeled as we dragged the locked front tires across the tarmac of the parking lot, making enough noise to attact the attention of any sleeping guard or car owner with a gun. 

 

Jeremy grinned to hide his fear.  I glanced at him and watched our rear.  No one appeared.  The big guy was just slowly walking down the parking lot with a big grin still smeared across his face.

 

"See you later, dude."  I waved to the big guy, who didn't seem at all concerned about us driving off with his neighbor's car.  He was just happy to talk to a fellow Yankee fan.

 

About a hundred yards down the parking lot, Jeremy and I jumped out of the truck, unstrapped the tires, picked up the other end of the car, and made our way at a fast clip to the exit gate where we had entered.  We both were concerned that someone had called the cops or security on us, but when the gate opened and we pulled out onto the open street, I knew it was all over, pending any cars following us. 

 

We watched for a few miles.  Nothing followed.  We breathed easier and stared laughing uncontrollably as the adrenaline rush surged through our bodies.  That didn't die down for another couple of hours.

 

The whole heist took less than seven minutes.

 

Like I said earlier in my blog stories, adrenaline is an amazing thing.  First is the debilitating, limb-numbing fear.  Then, the action time, where you have to perform or die, and finally the rush of adrenaline with an eventual exhaustive crash at the end, like depression. 

 

Like Vin Diesel said in the first Triple-X movie:  " I live for this shit!"

 

-T-