S and I rolled down to Barrio Logan this morning to go pick up his car from the scary impound lot. Luckily, I was wearing my J. Crew-iest, "Hi-I'm-preppy-who-wants-a-chai?" outfit, so I blended right in.
They wouldn't let me go in the lot with S to check out the car, but I could see him and the impound lady (who kind of looked like Tom Cruise in Collateral with that odd gray hairdo), as I eagerly watched through the razorwire fence. Though it was somewhat obscured from what I could see, Grimace looked ok. He didn't appear to have any physical damage, though I would imagine the emotional toll from being driven by strangers will keep him from being able to trust for awhile. S started him up with no problems, and I jumped up and down in excitement.
They took most of what was in the car, including the delightfully-named Swedish Brush Hook, which as you probably already know, hooks brush. I have no idea how the Swedes got involved. The worst loss was all of his work certificates, which may not be replaceable, and even if they can be, will be a long and tedious process.
S is still feeling pretty down about the theft, but it's a huge relief to have the car back. Still hoping that somewhere in the city, some very itchy thieves are suffering from poison oak rashes.