Where's Horatio When You Need Him?

Almost two weeks ago our brand new Audi A3 got jacked. Well, sort of.

Someone who had spent way too many hours playing Grand Theft Auto 4 decided to hop into our driver's seat and repeatedly ram a butter knife into the ignition.

I know this because when I got into the same driver's seat three days later I discovered a butter knife on the passenger side with the tip broken off. I also found a lighter and blood all over the steering wheel and driver's door handle.

While admittedly the new-car-and-leather smell had been getting on my nerves, the urban stench of depravity, nicotine and hemoglobin was hardly an improvement.

Sadly, instead of looking at car seats, the hubby and I are now shopping for The Club, that red beast that hooks onto your steering wheel to deter retards from ramming butter knives into holes where they don't belong.

To add to the frustration, our neighbor (a full-time sweat pants and beer cans kind of guy) said his tenant likely broke into our car. I called the cops to let them know where they could find a DNA link to the evidence they took from our vehicle (the perp's blood literally left a trail from our car to our neighbor's front door) and 10 days later...nothing. No follow-up interview, no phone call, nada.

I get that Horatio wouldn't be in any hurry to start up the Hummer for an attempted car theft. But I've been pulled over by cops in this city for jaywalking and biking on the wrong side on an intersection. Are our finest really too busy handing out tickets to actually solve crimes??

As for our car, it remains in the shop with the ETA of the replacement part being pegged at next week. Apparently Audi uses Viking ships to transport its parts from Germany.