Giles Coren's stolen car story has prompted a thread
My 1st time collecting my stolen car in 1980's Belfast.
Bear in mind, I'm a country boy, and the big smoke was quite alien to me at this early life stage.
1/..

17yo I'd started my 1st office job, and bought my 1st car.
Ford Escort, which I loved very dearly.
Big step up for someone in my family to have their own car.
2/..

I was sent to the Royal Victoria Hospital for a meeting with one of my managers & he'd lost his licence for being a drunken git. So I had to drive.
Cars were nicked from RVH daily at that stage.
3/..

I foolishly listened to aforesaid drunken git & parked on the street, near RVH security hut. He'd "been told" it was best option not to get stolen.
That tube was very wrong.
4/..

Car was nicked, and we walked to Grosvenor Rd copshop to report it.
Drunken git got a lift home, whilst I sat in copshop & listened to radio traffic as my car was chased around Belfast (joyrider in it).
5/..

Chase went on a while, the big RUC landrovers were no match for my baby. Then it stopped, they lost it.
Eventually it was spotted abandoned on a street off the Falls by an Observation Post.
6/..

In the meantime, as I waited, a joyrider presented himself in the copshop to "go to jail".
Highly amusing guy, his 1st words to duty cop were "Hurry up, I don't want to miss my dinner".
7/..

As car was found, he & I were chatting in waiting area.
When we heard where, he motioned to me not to go near it. "Leave it mate, don't ****ing go near that. Not there".
Not confidence-inspiring.
8/..

4 landrovers arrived to take me to my car. 3 military, 1 cops. I got in back of cop one, and held onto the rope in the middle as it swung it's way to my car.
Lumbering brutes those landrovers.
9/..

Big cop was a local to me, grew up with my brother, so I was in good hands. He gave me a screwdriver & told me how to start my car (key barrel would be broken).
10/..

We got to the street, and military stopped at both ends, positioned themselves to cover the cops & me, I assume. Guns pointing, all the usual "securing area" guff.
It all looked a bit Cagney & Lacey to me.
11/..

I was left to walk up the street alone, to get my car.
Locals who witnessed this retreated to a safe distance to watch the spectacle.
Another moment not conducive to confidence in my survival.
12/..

Opening the car door was not a moment I'd relished, but I figured if it had a bomb, I'd not feel much anyway.
I've never feared death much, but maiming & pain weren't something I fancied much of.
13/..

All went well, I got it started with the screwdriver & drove it back to Grosvenor Rd, with a procession of landrovers behind me (a fair bit).
Not permitted to park it too close, I went in to finish paperwork.
14/..

The logic was that they stopped booby-trapping stolen cars once security forces stopped going to collect them.
I hoped they remembered this, I must admit.
15/..

You used to be able to pay a firm to recover your car, but I was a peasant, I didn't pay for things I could do myself.
I assumed the "firm" was a local mob, probably with a hand in the stealing anyway.
16/..

My car drove, but steering column was a mess, so it changed lanes on the motorway on the way home, on a whim. An interesting journey.
The drunken manager who told me to park there feigned shock the next day, though was ultimately at fault.
17/..

I got my baby back, work agreed to help pay repair costs, all was well.
I'd a story to tell the mates in the pub, and I got my 1st understanding of how city-folk live (like animals).
18/..

Big cop who knew me told me that, when they were chasing it, they'd tried to run over my car.
Figured the joyrider was a public menace & if he got squashed, it'd be a public service.
I was glad they didn't, I did like that car.
19/..End

Addendum.
I pinched the screwdriver.
A peasant will always revert to being a peasant