Sylvette

I once owned a 1967 Chevy pick-up truck…a classic. It was white with red lettering on the back. It had absolutely no rust or dents or scratches. It had a Turbo Block 350, v-8 engine, four-wheel drive transmission…it was a beauty and I called it “The Beast.”

I bought The Beast from a man who knew little about classic cars. It was such a special find. I had to use most of my grandmother’s inheritance to buy The Beast for $2,500. It was a dream come true for me; I finally had a classic Chevy!

I remember I couldn’t sleep that night, I was so excited, I kept looking through the door window checking if that truck was still there, still parked outside where I left it, confirming with each time that it was indeed mine.

Nothing can take away the feeling I had when I drove The Beast home for the first time, and nothing can ever take away the memory of receiving the news…four months later that my truck had been stolen from the mechanic’s lot. Absolutely nothing has ever taken away the mental picture that is stored and the feeling associated with that picture of opening The Beast’s hood for the first time at the impound lot, and seeing nothing but the ground.

Nothing can erase the slow-motion replay of me finding The Beast, in its condition after being stolen. It had been dinged up, scratched, the windows smashed up…and the entire engine was gone! Everything that was under the hood was gone! It was stripped. My own personal possessions taken…my music, my lipsticks, even my prescription glasses.

Someone had victimized me by stealing The Beast, and I was traumatized by the entire experience. I felt helpless and stripped down myself. I had nightmares about finding the jerks that did this. I had nightmares of seeing The Beast modified. I found myself constantly looking up and down the streets as I passed by, hoping to find The Beast parked, even though I knew The Beast had already been found. For months I did this, perhaps hoping to find something to link up to the crime…or perhaps I was hoping to see The Beast parked one more time again, confirming it was some incredibly bad nightmare and that it was still mine.