Stripped and abandoned

IT WAS SURREAL. I had parked my car, a 1995 Honda Civic coupe, in its usual place in the parking lot of the apartment complex I've called home for the last few years. It was gone. Thinking at first that I'd parked it elsewhere and simply forgotten, I roamed the lot looking for my jaunty little red ride, but it was nowhere to be found. My car had been stolen.

I never thought this could happen to my car. I thought no thief would want it because of its high mileage and the fact that it was starting to look its age, despite knowing mid-'90s Hondas are the most popular vehicles stolen in Vegas, and that Vegas led the nation in auto thefts in 2006. After a minor accident in which the passenger-side door was crumpled and the mirror knocked off, I didn't bother to get bodywork done because I figured ugliness was a good theft deterrent.

The one thing I didn't know about was the "piranha job" factor, when cars are taken and stripped for parts that are then sold to chop shops around town. After all, according to the news, most stolen cars are taken for joyrides, and that was true in my experience as well. When I lived in Michigan, teenagers stole my Pontiac 6000 and crashed it into a funeral parlor. I had full coverage insurance, which paid for repairs and the rental of a hot-pink Saturn. The rental car was much cuter than my burgundy Pontiac, which called to mind the kind of cheap pimp who controls Detroit's infamous Cass Corridor. In fact, I regretted having to turn in the Saturn when I got the Pontiac back.

No such luck this time. Because of the age of my Honda and its mileage, my insurance company had steered me away from anything more than liability coverage -- a mistake on its part and mine. According to the Nevada Insurance Council, the 1991 Honda Accord was the most commonly stolen car in the state in 2006. My make and model were second on the list, I discovered.

As with 80 percent of stolen cars in the Las Vegas Valley, my car eventually turned up. Two days after it vanished, Metro called me to meet them a few miles from my place to claim my car, which had been abandoned by the side of the road. I was on my way to cover an event, but the cops said if I didn't get there in half an hour, they'd have my car towed and I would have to pay $200 to get it out of impound.

Wondering why Metro was treating me like I was the one who had committed the crime, I drove to the scene to find my car with no hood, no trunk, no ignition and many missing small parts from inside, such as the dome light and air vents. With its high mileage and existing issues, the theft had rendered my car irreparable.

It was like looking at the mangled body of a loved one who had been kidnapped and mutilated before he was killed. I felt sick and violated. I asked the cop who had found my car if they were going to take prints and he said, "We don't do that anymore."

Now, if my car had simply been taken for a joyride and left unharmed, I could understand why Metro couldn't be bothered to pursue the case further. But when I found out Metro has been claiming to make an effort to curb car theft, my first thought was, "How hard would it be to take prints from those cars that are stripped for parts and then compare them to chop shop operators' prints?" Metro has gone to the trouble of using "bait cars" in some areas to attract thieves. Why not dust for prints? If the thief were found, he or she could be liable for damages, in addition to being arrested.

According to a recent news story on KOLO Channel 8 in Reno, Lt. Robert Duvall, head of Metro's property crimes bureau, said the Vehicle Investigations Project for Enforcement and Recovery (VIPER) has been split into two sections. One investigates joyriders and one investigates chop shops, whose professional thieves commit about 30 percent of auto thefts.

That's funny. All I got was an apathetic shrug and an insincere "Sorry, we've got better things to do with our time." Thieves know about this attitude, obviously, which is why they can be brazen enough to walk up to a locked, parked car in a residential area, jimmy the lock, and hotwire it on the spot. My advice for other Honda owners? No matter how old or ugly your Honda may be, purchase theft insurance on your own dime, because there's no one else watching out for you.

Meredith McGhan is a local freelance writer. You can reach her at meredithmcghan@gmail.com.