Fricking Frick

I was told Frick Park is a nice place for trail running and, though I didn't find it to be particularly spectacular, that’s more or less true... if you don’t count the thieves that busted out my car window and stole all my stuff while I pondered the possibility of starting a second blog about trail running in Pittsburgh (which I did, here).

After hours wasted this week dealing with the insurance people, replacing credit cards, finding a new cell phone, and waiting in line at the ever-depressing PennDOT Drivers License Center, I find myself a bit more than a bit bitter toward crime and criminals. I hear a soundbyte on the news about a twelve-year-old joyriding in his grandma’s car: lock his ass up. I see an old man park in front of a fire hydrant: five years’ hard labor. I read about a bikini-clad twenty-something carjacking her neighbor's station wagon: send her to Australia (bikini/lenience rule applies).

So forgive me if I’m puzzled by the cliché about thieves and the honor among them. I suppose, to parse words, the honor to be spoken of is only dealt out on a thief-to-thief basis. Logical, I suppose. But why leave the victims out of it altogether? When I used to surf throughout Southern California, the occasional theft was pretty commonplace. But often only the cash would be taken from your wallet, and rarely was a vehicle damaged unnecessarily. Once, in La Jolla, we returned to my buddy’s slightly effeminate hatchback to find a sheet of notebook paper on the driver’s seat with the single hand-scratched word “Sorry” centered on the page, his wallet—unaffected save for the gone cash—placed neatly beneath it.
The car had even been re-locked, with the hide-a-key back in place to stave off other, less perceptive thieves no doubt. (EDIT: I'm informed that the car was actually left unlocked, with the hide-a-key on the seat under the wallet. Nonetheless, very courteous thief.)

Now you may be saying to yourself, Then you should have left a hide-a-key so they didn’t have to break your window, idiot. I may also be saying that to myself, and it may be a valid point, but did they really have to dent the door by trying to pry it open before breaking the window? Ridiculous. That easily doubled the cost of repair. So as to any fiction of these a-holes recognizing any admirable code of conduct, even amongst their own miserable, spitdrinking selves, I don’t buy it.

Also, These United States will be at Brillobox later this month. Please don’t steal their shit while they’re in town.

Download:
These United States – “Honor Amongst Thieves”