It’s been somewhat of a relief to find out that at least one of the recent car fires in my neighborhood has been the result of an accident. Granted, my source for this information is an unregulated forum found on some WordPress blog that I doubt I could locate again, but it was enough to ease my mind enough that I could go on with my day.
There have been three car fires that we’ve noticed in the last three weeks or so, all within two blocks of our apartment. The first one was freaky, the second suspicious, and the third, which happened last night within view of our apartment, wreaked havoc with my imagination. I think we all know by now that I have a somewhat active imagination to begin with, so you can probably guess some of my theories. In case you can’t, I’ll tell you.
Billy’s thought was that it was a series of systematic mob hits. Too much “Sopranos” watching for us, I think. Me, I thought it was a bunch of ethnically-targeted terrorist car bombs. And that the terrorists were going to scare us out of Jackson Heights one parked car at a time.
This might not sound so ridiculous if you knew some of the other ridiculous explanations I’ve come up with for other innocuous events. Like, the time Billy went out with his friend Huie, got drunk, and passed out at Huie’s apartment. When he still wasn’t home at 6am, I panicked. I turned on the radio, half expecting to hear that a subway station blew up. The other possibility I came up with was that they’d somehow hooked up with a couple of high-rolling prostitutes and were doing lines of coke in their penthouse apartment. The idea that he’d just drank too much and passed out at Huie’s never even crossed my mind. I’m either really stupid or really brilliant. I haven’t quite decided which.
In any case, it’s nice to know we’re not being overtaken by bullies here in the Heights. We can all breathe a sigh of relief.