Car trouble.

Mondays are my own and I was out in the fields behind Port Glasgow walking the dog today. I came upon this burned out car, the final act of theft somewhere nearby. Out here where the town gives way to the fields you often come upon these abandoned and torched sights. 
  Years ago, I was down visiting my parents for Sunday dinner. Dinner over, I went to get my car only for it it not be where I’d parked it earlier. I stood there having a wee think, trying to work out what I’d done with it. After going through scenarios that were becoming more abstract and bizarre, I realised that it wasn’t there because it wasn’t there because it’d been stolen. I still couldn’t quite believe it and stood there a while longer just to be super extra sure. Nope, definitely not there. I headed back to my parents’ where my then-wife and kids were all expectantly packed and ready to go.
  The police arrived soon enough and were asking question after question. Once they had enough they called the details through to the station. I realised how little I knew about the mechanics of our car, a Nissan Micra. I actually felt that my hesitant answers were making them suspicious of me. Then a sudden burst of static noise and through their radio came the news that a phone call had come in from a woman who had seen two young boys get out of a car that fitted the description of my car. It was in Sunnyside Avenue, about a minute by car away from where we were.
  They sprung into action and told me to come along. We ran downstairs and I got in the back feeling a bit Starsky and Hutch. They sped off and disappointingly didn’t hit the blue lights and siren. We turned down Heggies Avenue -a very steep hill- then right into Sunnyside. My car was coming directly towards us. 
The police car cut across the road and made a barrier between Sunnyside and Heggies. Doors opened and out of the front of my car jumped two children that looked about 13 heading in opposite directions, one fleeing up the hill, one down. Both police jumped out and gave chase leaving me in the back seat looking on. Looking on at my empty car - front doors open- slowly heading straight towards the police car. I tried to open the door but it was locked. I tried the other back door: the same. Out the window cars were passing by up and down Heggies, slowing to look at me in the back of the police car with a green Nissan trundling towards me.
  There was more static and chat on the radio. I half thought of giving a report but sanity prevailed. My car started listing left towards the kerb. It rubbed up against it and stopped just shy of the police car. So I sat there a while trying the doors again like a half-wit. As cars passed up and down the hill, I tried to mime that my car had been stolen: basically steering an imaginary wheel and shaking my head in mock disbelief. The cars revved off on their way up and down Heggies.
  After about 15 minutes of me trying to perfect the car-just-been-stolen mime the police came back puffed out and pissed off. Their faces sweaty and ripe like beef tomatoes. Both of the boys had gotten away. 
  They let me out the back of the car and I went to mine and saw that they’d ripped the trunking off the steering column and hot-wired the ignition. What school taught that?, I joked. The police were still too puffed out and pissed off to even smile at my patter. Thankfully putting my key in the ignition started it and I was able to drive back to my parents’ house and on retelling the tale everyone thought my line about which school taught hot-wiring a car was a good one.