The last garage break in, they took my mountain bike- a classic British made steel frame 29’r. I didn’t even bother to report it to my insurance for fear of getting dropped from too many claims. But....
Today I discovered that, in addition to the bike, they took my Fishpond backpack containing all my reels, 7-10 boxes of flies, line, tippet, etc, and most very sadly, Miss Nona- the net I had made honoring my grandma. I’ve never physically shaken from anger. Not in all my years in law enforcement, not even after OIS’s. But it happened today.
I could almost let it slide were it a pro job where I was stream side and a smash and grab happened. At least the gear might have seen further life on the water. But I’ve no doubt that they took the pack just to haul their transient shit around, not even understanding or appreciating the meaning of the net, or what the reels were. Probably just tossed them. It wasn’t pristine stuff; I’m hard on my gear. But, it was a collection that took years to put together. And the net, well, it’s beyond irreplaceable, like a piece of my soul was taken with it.
Our place is on the market because of the crime that’s plaguing Albuquerque. We are hitting the road tomorrow (preplanned) and I told the wife, “I don’t give a shit if it’s not sold by the time we get back- I’m not spending another night there lest I kill a person if I find them breaking in. That’s what it’s come to. I wasn’t that way as a po-po. I can’t stand being that way now.
Fuck addicts. Fuck Albuquerque PD. And fuck this experiment that has been city living.
Whew. I feel marginally better. Thanks for listening.
180 Degrees South