Broken pieces don’t bring luck, broken pieces make you angry.
Thursday morning in Berlin. I get into my car and just think: It’s pretty fresh in here! Did I forget to close a window, isn’t the trunk completely closed?
A look over the right shoulder shows that there is a hole where the rear window should actually be. It’s pouring rain and it takes me a moment to understand. The car is under a tree, but I can’t find a broken branch. A crashed comet is not in the trunk either.
It wasn’t nature. That was a human. Or more. With brute force. I once tried to break a window in an emergency and failed terribly. For this you need strength, will and usually a tool.
There are two cases of beer in the trunk, which the perpetrators are obviously not interested in
Nothing was stolen. There were two empty beer crates in the trunk. Dear car haters, take at least the deposit with you next time (6.12 euros, one bottle was missing before). A Schalke fan from the neighborhood, who always looks critically at my BVB sticker, has an alibi.
Who the hell does that anti-social? Pointlessly wandering around and smashing windows? From the police I found out: In my neighborhood alone, (at least) five demolished cars with broken windows were reported on that day, and there was a suspicion of a crime.
I have no idea which other models were the target, but folks: I DRIVE A POPULAR POLO! My Paolo (every car has earned a nickname) is 15 years old and has been a total economic loss since an accident. The cart is not worth the hammer with which it was violated, the metal-turned opposite of a bigwig cart that could become the target of ideological nuts.
Now Paolo is a total write-off with rear ventilation. Thanks for that, you idiots.
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