The day someone stole my Jeep (and my youth)

I'm used to playing the age joke for some time now. Every time something odd happens to me or any of my friends, I blame it on old age. My knees have been hurting lately partly because of working on my shed project and partly due to age of course. I just hit that juncture they call "forty". Did someone say life begins at “forty”? George Kahacho told me lat year he was "one", meaning he is 41. Make him two and half now. Last night I remembered reading about mid-life crisis in Time magazine. They said it begins at around my age. But what kind of crisis should I expect. Marriage crisis, financial crisis? (The whole world is experiencing one right now) health crisis? (God has blessed me so far). I guessed I have to postpone the crisis because my Grandmother is 110 and both my Grandfathers all lived over 100. So if I'm to live like them (not very likely), then my mid life is at least 10 years ahead of me.

The lady of my house decided she needed milk for afternoon tea. Having lived in England and grown up in the hills of Kenya, I guess afternoon tea is like Mediterranean siesta. So I had to go to the store (Price Chopper) and get us our usual two gallons of (muitha). It was hot, as summer is almost here and I had the AC on for the mile trip. I parked on my favorite spot next to a disabled bay since they are usually unoccupied. That gives me space to exit my car. I getting bigger you know. As I got off the car a white car pulled up next but I did not pay attention to it since my mind was set on the milk. I walked into the store, got the milk and went straight to customer service. I do that often since it’s quicker and the station is higher for my convenience. See I think I have tall men syndrome too. I paid and started my way back.

As I walked to where I thought I parked my Jeep, I realized that there was no jeep on the other side of the white car. I moved closer looking around and extending my eye search for my green Jeep. For those of you who have ever owned a Jeep, you know that its one of those cars you identify from miles away because of its unique grill and tough body shape. But still my jeep was nowhere. After searching for it in almost the entire parking lot. I concluded that someone had stolen my Jeep. I went back to the spot I thought I parked it and stood there and started to sweat.

I have had the jeep since 2001. For all those years, I have never shown real love for the damn vehicle. Yes I enjoy driving it and love the strong sound of the engine. I also like the sound of its stereo system. For the first time in eight years, I missed my green Jeep. Many thoughts went through my mind within those few minutes I stood at the spot. I could not remember if I had locked the doors or not. But who would steal my Jeep? Of all the nice cars in the lot why would any thief pick on my Jeep? Is it because I'm black? Do they know I’m from Africa? Do they know my wife is waiting for me to deliver the milk? Do they know right now I do not have a job? Who would steal my Jeep in these economic times?

A cart collector passed by and I told him someone has stolen my Jeep. He was one of those schools kids who work at the stores part time and he did not seem to care. He gave me a look which seemed to tell me "so someone stole your jeep? Who cares? How can you afford a jeep anyway" I have owned several cars in my life but never had one stolen. I did not know what to do. Do I call my wife first and tell her she going to have to wait for the milk longer, or go back to the store and tell them my jeep has been stolen. Then I remembered the police. Big old police would find the thief and get me my jeep back. I search my pockets for my cell phone but I did not have it with me. I started to walk back to the store and ask to use their phone and call the police. But I do not enjoy the company of the police in this country. They carry guns and guns and I are afraid of each other. The "old bill" in London never does. For a split second I missed London. I remembered the Astynomia in Greece but I could not come up with enough Greek to describe what had just happened. The carabaniere in Italy would not have understand either and the Kenyan police would have asked for a bribe first. I then realized I was losing my mind and I was standing in front of the counter of Price Chopper.

The lady asked "how may I help you". I told her my car has been stolen from the parking lot. She asked me if I left the keys in the ignition. I looked at her with a mix of confusion and anger as a shock the key on my finger. I then started to wonder how the car thief started the engine without my keys. I asked if I could use the phone to call the police and she handed me a black phone. Just as I was about to dial 911. I decided to look outside for the last time just to confirm that the jeep was really not there. You got to be sure before you call the cops. Another blue car had occupied the spot now. I looked farther up the parking lot just being cautious before I dial big old 911. And there it was. Parked between a white Lincoln Mercury on the left and a black Ford 150 pickup was my Silver Oldsmobile Alero. I had been using the Jeep lately to get materials for the shed from Sutherland which shares the same parking lot with price chopper. For the Milk trip I had used the Alero since I did not need much room. But it had not registered in my mid life brain.

I gave the lady the phone back and grabbed my now warm two gallons of milk and left with out a word. I was too confused to say anything. I did not know whether to celebrate or to cry. As I put in the key to start the car, I remembered what I have heard many times that old age does not announce its arrival. I also remembered all the jokes I have made about getting old. You see, I never thought being 40 could make you loose you mind. I guess I do not have to wait another 10 years. I am already old. All those break Dancing on the grass at St. Joseph, all those broken legs and bones when growing up have caught up with me. But they are nothing compared to getting old where dreams all the joy of life are manufactured. I dare you to get old my friend.

If you are wondering what I have decided to do about it, here are some of the changes I have decided to make.


No more running faster than 2m/h
Stay off the roof
Drive slow.i.e 60 m/h and under
Take up yoga
Develop new hobbies (like singing in the shower) quite safe
Play more catch with my son