by Heather Carreiro

Created on: June 29, 2008

Living in South Asia, I wasn't that surprised when my car was stolen from the school where I worked. By evening I had resigned myself to the fact that my car was probably being smuggled into Taliban territory in thousands of pieces. You can imagine my shock when I looked out my window the next morning and there was my car.

Not really knowing what to do, I called the police to see if they had recovered it and dropped it off during the night for some reason. They hadn't. The disturbing thing was that the car had been stolen from my workplace and dropped at my residence. It was either the work of a miracle or a stalker. I asked the police to come check the car and make sure it was safe, since there could have been explosives or something attached to it. Who knows, especially with another major attack on foreigners at the Danish Embassy just one-day prior.

Knowing the police were probably not good with direction, as not many people seem to be around here, I went outside to try to flag them down. I felt as if my heart had leapt into my throat as I passed by the car, wondering if it would blow up. The police and my landlord's family came outside. I guess I really overestimated the local police because I thought they'd have some way to check the car for explosives. Instead they asked, "Have you opened it yet?" We said no. "Ok then open it and check it." The police wanted us to check it ourselves! They didn't have any way to check the car. No dogs, no sensors, nothing. No wonder the evidence in important cases like Benazir Bhutto's assassination is fumbled. My landlord opened the car and we checked it out. Everything was there. Stereo, flash drive, owner's manual, everything. Nice rims and tires still on the car. The only things I couldn't find were my laundry slip, some personal papers, and my precious Lonely Planet Pakistan wit hundreds of handwritten travel notes in the margins.

The locks had not been struggled with and there was no evidence of hot wiring. The seat was pulled back about a foot further than I usually have it, so it must have been driver by someone tall. A few things that were in the backseat, window covers etc., were moved to the trunk so I'm guessing that there were at least three people on the joyride. License plates were still the same. The handbrake was pulled up, and I didn't realize until later that whoever stole it had driven around without disengaging it. We had just replaced the brakes a week before the theft, and the pedal was going to the

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