The plot thickens…
I guess I had quite an interesting day.
It was my uncles funeral today. He’s also my godfather. But I really didn’t feel like going. I had no relationship with him… and for the most part, as far as I can tell, neither did his kids, since they left him in a home to die. I mean he was really stubborn about going towards the light. Antibiotic resistant bladder infection. Then he got Covid. Then… he broke… eh… I want to say femur… but maybe it was a hip. Then a stroke. Although maybe the stroke was before… anyways, then the antibiotic resistant infection came back and finished him off.
My youngest has got a bit of a post-nasal cough thing going on at the moment. Which means she can’t go to school.
Which means I had a great excuse to stay at home and not go to the funeral, sending the missus instead to represent me (or maybe us). Ha ha. Yeah, this is how I roll. But by the time funeral rolled around the two year was driving me mad. (and I couldn’t just leave her alone at home to go visit my mistress*) So I packed her up and took her to the church… (me wearing shorts and t-shirt) with the idea that we would wander around outside, and you know, get points allocated against our/my account for showing up or whatever.
In any event. We’re circumnavigating the church. I went to school here and this was our school… church… I guess. I know this place pretty well.
I find a handbag outside one of the windows round the back.
Its a trap. It must be. But it looks fairly innocuous. I peek inside. Its a high end branded handbag. Inside is an iPhone. Its also on the higher end, eleven or twelve maybe… but face locked. Okay, there’s a purse. A fair amount of cash… credit cards… ID, Drivers license. Her name is Diane.
I feel like this is some sort of ethical test and there is a hidden camera somewhere watching me. I glance around. (nervously)
How does one find the owner of an abandoned handbag I wonder vaguely. I google her. But her name is too common and she shares her appellation with someone famous. I get a million hits, so that’s a bust. In all honesty, while I’m briefly tempted to play detective… I have a mad two year old to wrangle… and I’m not really in the mood. Still, I pick up the handbag.
We walk. And eventually I drop if off at the parish office. Catholic parish administrators are notoriously honest right? And also notorious busy bodies. They’ll find the owner, they have fuck-all else to do. I laugh at my summation. She says she will check the ID against the parish register and then phone the school secretary and they’ll compare notes. I imagine its all in safe (or maybe Gods) hands.
I wait around for the funeral to finish. I do another circuit of the church with the insane pygmy. She can stomp on the graves in the garden of remembrance and then throw (ridiculously huge) acorns down into the drain. (seriously do all the dead people help them to grow this big?) I impress her by using an acorn hat to whistle.
We are almost done with our lap when bump into a blond middle aged women. She’s masked up but seems out of place here, I take a chance and ask her if she’s looking for her handbag. ‘Yes!’, she says. ‘I dropped it off at the Parish office’. ‘Oh thank God’, she says. Apparently her phone started ringing during the morning service and she panicked and threw her bag out the window.
Lol. Seriously, wtf.
The funeral is over and I meet my wife. I explain that I found a handbag. And it belongs to ‘that women’ over there, ‘Oh I know her, my wife says, that Di from XYZ, we were chatting earlier, she’s one of my clients’. I laugh. What does she do for XYZ I ask. She’s part of their executive team my wife says, earns an absolute fortune. She tells me the number, its an eyewatering figure that makes me suck air through my teeth. ‘She threw her handbag out of a church window because it was ringing…’
As it turns out that was not the weirdest thing to happen to me today.
So I keep a IFAK medical kit in my truck. Mostly this is because… a couple of years ago I was the first responder at a motorcycle accident. Well… truthfully I was maybe third or forth person to get there, but everyone else around me was absolutely fucken useless. One of the guys around the biker was borderline hysterical and trying to get everyone to pray with him. Which… as you can imagine… I found less than helpful… and I may have scornfully intimated that fact to him in an impolite manner.
In any event, I really needed some proper medical shears to get through his jeans… I ended up using one of my folders to cut… but scissors would have been better… then I didn’t have gloves (for which my doctor friend shouted at me for) or a tourniquet (something else that might have been useful) or a hemostatic bandage… or really anything practical. In any event, I carry all those things now, just in case.
So when I drove to Cape Town recently I took out my IFAK and put it in my dads car (that we were driving down) along with my Go-bag… which has some other useful road-trippy type stuff in it.
I keep the IFAK under the drivers seat and when I pulled it out I must have dislodged something. Because today, getting into the truck I noticed this little… round… disc that was sticky on one side… and had some wires attached to it.
What is this?
I get down under the seat and pull out this strange looking device.
Tell me that doesn’t look suspicious?
What the hell?
I am not immediately freaking out. Maybe Ford install trackers on their new vehicles incase they get stolen or hijacked or something. I’m going past Ford on my way to pick up coffee, I’ll just go give them back their tracker. I bought the car just before Christmas so yeah, maybe this is from then…
The sales rep looks at me like I’ve lost my marbles. He doesn’t know anything about trackers being installed on any of their vehicles… but he takes me to the parts department, maybe they can tell me what it is, and why it was under my seat.
The parts deptarment don’t know what it is, or how it go there… but she calls over one of the technicians who posits that it looks like some sort of tracker. Maybe I should speak to the branch manager.
I go and do that. He has no idea either.
I send off the picture to one my friends… but decide to pull a Gene Hackman (in Enemy of the State) and put the offending device into a Lays Potato chips packet… because everyone knows that will totally fry the signal… eh… right?
My friend replies and says he’s showed it to some people… and it looks like ‘the kind of cheap tracker a PI would use to follow someone’. Is my wife suspicious of me, is she having me followed because I’m having an affair?
I laugh at the idea. I’m such a homebody now, and really my wife knows how sad and uninteresting I’ve become. And how fat I’ve gotten. It would literally be impossible for me to get a girlfriend, let alone service one. Besides who has the time for an affair?
This doesn’t really solve my dilemma . How did a tracking device end up stuck under my car seat? And why would anyone want to follow me?
I am such a nobody.
The only thing that I can think of is that someone slipped this into the truck because they wanted to steal it at some point. Maybe. But who, or how they managed this… well… it remains a mystery. Why didn’t they just steal it straight away? Or why hasn’t someone pulled up next to me at a traffic light and shoved a Norinco Tokarev in my face. (in case you’re wondering, all the bad guys here use Chinese copies of a Russian handgun)
I don’t know.
And maybe I will never know.
Still, I think the drugs are working, because this would have pushed old Joey off the the edge. Ha ha.
Paranoia, paranoia, everyones coming to get me… just say you never met me…