Street cred

I struggled to get in to work today, not through tiredness, no I slept soundly last night, it being the first night in weeks we were not anticipating the birth of new animals. No I was struggling as I was loaded like a pack animal with my paperwork, diary, phone, glasses, 10 dozen eggs and thirty pounds of frozen sausage, the edible items for colleagues. I fumbled with the code to the keypad and entered the inner sanctuary without dropping anything and without creating sausage omelette's on the floor.

Work was its usual hectic pace, court work is strange, you are in a building with solicitors, barristers and other ner do wells all trying to win wars of words refereed by the clerk who rules with an iron fist. So there I was rubbing shoulders with a mixture of societies least favourite people (not all were legally qualified, some were criminal) drug users, dealers, abusers, burglars, fine dodgers and car thieves. Its not uncommon for the little TWOC'ers (take without the owners consent) to nick a car to get to court, or nick one to get away. Or both.

So all day I was indoors, and obviously Vic the Volvo was outside. Now it is said that Volvos lack a certain something, street cred is one, not your head turning road racer that is a must have for petrol heads. More a cardigan of the automobile world. And as its gas powered Vic is shunned by the mainstream driver who having seen Pathe news reels of the Hindenburg disaster think that driving gas powered cars must be akin to sitting on a landmine and hitting it with a hammer, the gas tank is a bomb just waiting to go off. The inevitable question when people discover Vics source of motivation is "Oh, aren't you scared?" Usually, but not of Vic.

Cases heard, and home time so I collected my stuff together, final check before negotiating the security guards and body scanner at the exit. A strange feeling that something was missing. I put my files down, checked my pockets, definitely missing. Car keys missing. I took the long walk through the building to the exit where Steve the security guard waved cheerily as my arm set off his metal detector again, "Go on sir" he chortled in a "Run along now sonny" way.

I walked around the building hoping. Hoping that Vic was where I had left him, and that if he was the keys were as well. Our friends recently had their car taken off their drive. Twice. What chance did Vic have given the clientele of the day?

He stood alone in the car park. I could see the door locks were off, hanging in the ignition the keys. All day ripe for the taking. Heaving the hugest sigh of relief I got in and started the journey home. How did he manage to survive the day, perhaps Volvos lack street cred for scrotey car thieves, even Volvos with big neon signs over saying steal me now its going to be so easy!

The voices on the radio crossed from the sub conscious and I listened carefully as the discussion concluded that the increase in car security meant the majority of cars are now stolen with the car keys.