Marty Feldman

Marty Feldman

I lead a very Spartan lifestyle. I still wear T-shirts I had at age 12. I have little to zero furniture. I've spent entire years sleeping on the floor, in closets, and on piles of towels. I eat very little if at all; my chief culinary specialty is something I call 'sandwich over a garbage can'.

Nowadays, even my hairline takes a minimalist approach.


So when it comes to the kind of car I drive, nothing special. No Mustang convertible, no Camaro, no Escalade. Because of my modest means (& ample penis size) I drive a used '99 Nissan Sentra!

Allow me to describe the hunk-of-junk that passes itself off as my 'car'... paint job is faded and blotchy from seagull poo. The tint on the rear windows is wrinkled and peeling. The seats are worn and stained with what appears to be volcanic ash. One front headlight bulges from its socket and drifts off a bit, giving my car a slight resemblance to Marty Feldman. Albeit more attractive.

So on August 3rd, 2015 when it was stolen from outside my apartment in North Hollywood, my initial reaction:"Hah, joke's on them. Good luck cruisin' the strip and bird-doggin' chicks in my hoo-ride, pal. That shit's babe-repellent."

Reality quickly set in. Although my Sentra is an eyesore, it's incredibly reliable. Engine, transmission, mileage, MPG -- all around good condition. I worried it would be stripped for parts, possibly set on fire and peed upon. Or could be used in some criminal enterprise, like smuggling or child prostitution. Or worse... hobo toilet.

After scouring the neighborhood to make sure I hadn't misremembered where I parked, plus a requisite check on the official L.A.-wide towing website, I accepted the reality that it was gone. I filed a police report Monday evening.

Woefully inaccurate.

Woefully inaccurate.

The desk sergeant gave me some encouragement by saying (paraphrased) "When we find your car we'll call you."Woefully inaccurate.According to knowledgeable folks I've asked since, the likely scenario is some hoodlum just took it on a joyride and would eventually dump it wherever's handy. So I went home, hoped for the best, and watched Speed to get an idea for what taking the bus would be like.

Over the next few days, I did my due diligence keeping updated on my car's whereabouts. I checked the Official Police Garages website regularly, but after the first few days was consistently met with an error message. I phoned the police. Hold times were prohibitively long, at least during the time of day I had available to call, so that didn't get me anywhere. I accepted on faith that I would receive a phone call if/when my car was found.

15 DAYS LATER... I open my mail to find a notice of stored vehicle from a local (city-affiliated) garage. And they'd been keeping it for 10 DAYS. Brief timeline:

car theories.png
  • AUG 3 - car stolen, report filed
  • AUG 3 - ticketed by the Parking Citations Bureau
  •   (b/c it was left running in an alley)
  • AUG 8 - finally towed by the Dept. of Transportation
  • AUG 8 to 17 - no phone call, no card, no flowers
  • AUG 11 - postmark for mailed notice
  • AUG 18 - reclaim car, check for hobo stink 

Had to pay storage fees to the tune of $730 smackers for the tow place to release my vehicle. It's completely intact, and what few contents I had inside are all accounted for: my sketchbook, my makeup, my business cards -- even $14 in quarters I'd set aside for laundry! So it could have turned out worse but...

Shouldn't I have been phoned? Not to pick a fight, here -- because meter maids are surly and not to be provoked -- but most car-theft victims in SoCal get a timely courtesy call from the fuzz or related agencies. Whether from the DOT, or the NoHo PD, or the PCB or OPG? I don't expect them to have a sophisticated cross-referential network on par with that of FBI, CIA or ATF, but WTF?