Oh, baby! Come to papa!
The JoyRider was the best there ever was. He'd started out small, looking for easy targets and hopping into anything he could. But his appetite was always for more. Anyone could joy ride an unlocked car, but the greater the challenge the greater the satisfaction. He worked his way up to luxury sedans and finally to the exotics, the most difficult of all. Never had he a car of his own, but he sure did enjoy riding other's!
But something else got stolen along the way.
To keep up with the ever increasingly sophisticated security measures he had to devote more and more of his time and money to learning to disarm his prey, teaching himself computer software and how to spot a set up. Once he'd reached the stratosphere of the exotics cars, the thought of moving back down never occurred to him. The JoyRider had to have them and the idea of defeat was wholly unacceptable.
"This feeling is like no other! I can wreck it, piss on it or throw it away and none of it comes back to me. This is the Ultimate Toy, and no one can buy it! You might be a billionaire Mr. Ferrari Owner but you'll never have the rush I've got now in your car. HAHAHAHAHA!"
Can't catch me, coppers!
He'd never retain the cars for any reason. Never sold them or used them in another crime as so often is the case with stolen vehicles. No, he was just out for the thrill kill. Anything beyond that would tie him down, destroy him. Wring the fun out of it and move on. That was the secret to his longevity.
Once, for a period of time he'd been stumped by new security measures. He felt God was turning against him, as if he was falling into a deep, dark hole he'd never climb out of. The panic was such he contemplated suicide at the looming emptiness of his life coming to swallow him. After that, the JoyRider knew there was no turning back. Finally, he broke through, rejoicing at the return of his thrill, never realizing what had truly been stolen: his life.
"I can't believe everyone doesn't do this. Hey pal, you really think you're getting a Porsche in your lifetime? Wake up and smell the oil! And the chicks I get in this thing! And they like it even better when you tell them it's stolen! Yeehaaaw!"
One day, his body gave out from all the years of nervous exhaustion and blind commitment. He lay in bed, his mind dreaming of cars stolen and ones yet to steal but he had not the strength to perform. Suddenly it hit him: he'd never have a car of his own. He never learned enough to make the car payments necessary and all his available money had been spent on devices to enable his joy riding ways. Over the years his friends had told him to stop, to settle down before it's too late. So he carved them out of his life one by one.
OK, so this Porsche didn't turn out so well...
Coughing like clockwork, trapped in his bed, he found himself at the bottom of that deep, dark hole after all. But this he knew for sure: if he ever got any strength back, first thing he was going to do was steal another car.
"Why should I stop? Why should I lie here without anything to drive when everybody else is out driving around? What good does it do me to do without? I just want to live, like anyone else would! Where's the harm in that? I never want to waste my life - ever!"
I was there when he stole that car, this time trying to sell it to for a way of getting one of his own. But the sale was to an undercover cop and they dragged him away screaming and terrified into the night. I don't know what happened after that, I can't imagine it was anything good. The JoyRider just wanted to keep running forever, looking for salvation in vehicles not his own.
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