Regular readers of my ravings already know I’m Batman. In the first post in this series (you can find the earlier installments here, here, and here), I related the story of young Seamus Hickey and my ill-fated attempt to distract him so his harried mother could get some grocery shopping done. The story hinged on the fact that, because I’m Batman, I was, of course, wearing a Batman watch.
Because I’m also a world-class chucklehead, I left that watch and another Batman watch I owned in my car. Joining them in my car was an antique pocket watch that had belonged to my great-grandfather Quinn. It had been in my dad’s possession until his passing in 2014. It was thereafter bequeathed to my next-younger brother, Keith. The good news is I’d put the watches in my car, intending to take them to a watchmaker for service and repair.
The bad news is I left the valet key for my car in the console of the car, along with the ATM card for my business checking account. That moronity was compounded by the fact that my routine was thrown off by our having invited a friend to convalesce from knee surgery at our house. As a result, I left my car in the driveway, rather than putting it in the garage, as I otherwise would have. So, when some enterprising car thieves came through our neighborhood in the wee hours of the next fateful morning and pressed the button on the door of my car, it opened. All three watches were stolen along with the ATM card and the car.
At that point, I gave serious consideration to surrendering my Batman Card and turning in my costume. When you realize the skull of the dude who’s supposed to be the world’s greatest detective (me!) is numb enough to leave watches, an ATM card, and a key fob in a car left outside overnight, you really have to wonder how much crime he should be fighting — or if he should even be allowed to leave home without adult supervision. To say it was an existential crisis would be rank understatement.
To the Batcave!
But I ultimately got a grip of my knickers. I’d gotten things in South Windsor, the town in which we used to live, pretty much under control, especially after my car was stolen there. But now that we live in Middletown, there’s an entirely new set of challenges. Somebody has to fight crime. And I’m not presumptuous or naïve enough to imagine the police can handle all of it on their own. Besides, if I don’t take the Batmobile out regularly, the battery will die, and the exhaust system will rot.
So, I’m back. And yes: I did get another Batman watch.
I had to. I’m Batman.
