Dear friends and family,

On March 16, my work truck (Betty) and tool trailer (Barry) with approximately $30,000 worth of tools and materials were stolen from Mandana Ave in Oakland. Though I found Betty and Barry (who I will refer to as B&B for the remainder of this piece) after 5 days of searching, the trailer had been emptied and none of the contents were recovered. I’ve received such generosity from friends lending me tools but now have reached a place where I need to have my own tools in order to help my community, continue my own projects, and support myself as a builder.

Anything that you contribute will help supplement the cost of replacing what was lost. Doing so will allow me to continue to do work for folx who have projects small and large, as well as pass on my knowledge and skill about how to build.

Here’s a brief summary of the Betty and Barry story and my recovery efforts!

-While on a trip in Mexico, I received word that B&B were missing and flew home early to search for them.

-For 5 days I immersed myself in the stolen vehicle and goods economy – I drove every street in Oakland searching for B&B, hung fliers, talked with community members and walked the flea markets looking for my stolen tools.

-Just as I was about to stop looking, I found B&B on a street in East Oakland! While waiting for the police to release the vehicles to me, Betty was stolen AGAIN.

-The next day, I returned to the same location and found Betty nearby. This time I was able to recover B&B. Success. EXCEPT…

-Sadly all the tools, and thus my ability to practice my craft were gone, and instead I was left with 86 tires.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. Any contribution is appreciated.

A huge thank you to everyone who has helped me in this process:

Marlena Sloss for her love and support throughout the saga, Andrew Lingenfelter for notifying me of B&B’s theft and his enthusiastic support, Ashur Bratt for his intel and help making a plan, Ben Poretzky for being my supportive co-pilot and voice of reason, Laura Schrier for her nourishing food and support, Lalit Bhagwat for being direct and right, Rachelle Sloss for her laughter and humor, Eric Ritter for his support and belief in our project, Jamey Eichert for his patience and support, The Unreal Housewives of Euclid (Polly, Camilla, Shirelle, Mariska, and Tanya) for giving Barry a place to live, Tom Paschos for lending me his tools, Ben James for lending me his tools, and everyone else who supported me, shared my post, sent me messages, and asked how I was. I greatly appreciate you.

If you're interested in the full saga of what happened with B&B the full story follows:

On March 23, I turned onto Paloma Ave in my truck, pulling my trailer behind me, ending a week-long search in which I saw every corner of Oakland. My journey showed me just how complex and diverse the city is. Finding Betty and Barry (the name of my truck and trailer) exposed me to the stark contrast between the way that one side of the city lives and the other. It also reminded me that in the midst of circumstances that feel out of control, in which we are forced to face change, the support of community helps us navigate life with a little more ease.

One week earlier… Sipping a mezcal cocktail near the beach in Puerto Escondido, Mexico, my phone buzzed. It was Andrew, the ever-watchful, considerate, dad of the community house known as City Acre. He asked if I had permitted someone to move Betty and Barry (B&B). The words on the screen made the room spin until I arrested it and landed back in the seat that held the sinking feeling in my chest. There were two possibilities: the police had towed the vehicles or they had been stolen. My partner Marlena asked me what was up since my apparent pale complexion was a dead giveaway. I told her the news and with her usual calm and discerning composure, she helped me work through the next steps and possibilities. After checking the City of Oakland’s website to find out about tickets and impounded vehicles I discovered that B&B were neither ticketed nor towed. The gravity of that knowledge sunk me a little lower as the needle fell further into the haystack. With this knowledge, it seemed likely that B&B had been stolen. When I called the Oakland Police Department to report them as such, the dispatcher was kind but blunt. I couldn’t file a police report from the beach in Mexico – I needed to be at the spot where the incident occurred or send an authorized letter to the police letting them know that someone could file on my behalf. This information made it clear that there was not much I could do from where I stood watching barefoot, tan people in bathing suits getting ready to go dance.

At this point, it was 10 pm. Ashur, a dear friend who is fluent in the dynamics of the east bay, arrived and in typical fashion created action steps and asked hard questions. Before I could answer them I needed to eat to fill the empty feeling in my belly and psyche so we went to Uno y Mas, the premier roadside taco stand in Puerto. Ordering enough food to stress eat for three hours we gathered as much information as we could and crafted a plan. It was at that tiny plastic table that the message you likely saw on Facebook or Instagram was created. Thank you all for your support, suggestions, and kind words. Lingering in the air as the night continued was the question of whether to fly back and search or to finish my trip in Mexico. Marlena and I were supposed to visit friends for another 6 days, but Ashur poignantly posed the question, “will you be able to accept whatever happens if you don't go look?” Betty, while not the most KBB valuable vehicle, is extremely reliable. People constantly comment on the Powerstroke 7.3L engine and its ability to go 500k plus miles. This reliability continues to allow me to do projects and help friends – she's a community lady. Barry held all of my tools, my slew of Milwaukee battery-powered tools, Dewalt table saw, Bosch chop saw, Makita air compressor and nail guns, dozens of hand tools, painting supplies, fasteners, levels, materials upon materials upon materials. I was supposed to start a project with my friend Eric when I got back. How was I supposed to do that with everything gone? Try as I might to release the fate of B&B to the universe, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that they would be on my mind and would take me out of the present moment wherever I was. Yet, it was too late to make a decision. 1 am rolled around like the al pastor on the spit and Marlena and I bid Ashur goodnight.

After shutting my eyes and dreaming about B&B, I woke up early the next day and called the Oakland Police again. I wanted to see what I could do since certified mail cant be sent internationally, or so my short internet search determined. Officer Filer answered the phone (no joke, that was his name) and after listening to my situation agreed to file a report using Facebook Messenger. Providing him with all the details I knew, he instructed me to hold up my ID next to my face and took a screenshot. 2023 ya’ll. The trouble was that Barry, the trailer, was still in my friend and mentor Jamey’s name, so I couldn’t file a report for them. He also informed me that if B&B were recovered I would have an hour to come and get them before they would be impounded and I would need to pay to have them released. As morning continued to emerge it became clear that returning home was the right thing to do. Marlena and I were flying back to Mexico City that afternoon to continue our trip. The timing was right so I decided while checking in to our flight in Puerto to fly back to the Bay that night. With the decision made, I bid Marlena adieu in the maze of CDMX and sent my love to the friends who I wouldn’t get to see. Search mode was activated and I scoured the internet (Reddit mostly) for leads on where to look. Everywhere, messages of disbelief and doubt flooded my screen: most folx who lost their vehicles never saw them again or got them back in far worse shape than they lost them. Turns out car theft in Oakland is a very common occurrence. According to one source, a car is stolen every 45 minutes.

I arrived late on the night of the 17th, Ben kindly picked me up from SFO and we debriefed about where things currently stood. Enlisting himself, he kindly offered to assist me in my search the following day. He had already talked to some neighbors to find out if they had any camera footage from the past couple of days. Shirley, who lived just across the street from where B&B were last seen, had taken a picture a couple of nights before of someone who had been lurking in front of her house blocking her driveway. In the background, you could still see Barry. Shirley’s car was stolen the same night she took that picture and Andrew noticed that B&B were gone the day after the picture was taken. We stopped at the scene of the crime on the way home and investigated. I noticed some glass next to the curb, the location and concentration led me to believe that the wing window on the passenger side door had been the point of entry. This didn’t offer anything to the search but it was a little glimpse of what had happened and that gave me some hope.

The next day Ben and I began early and slowly zig-zagged our way east from Lake Merritt all the way to 90th and back up through West Oakland, Emeryville, and Berkeley. Going street by street we found pocket after pocket of abandoned vehicles, burnt-out cars, encampments, and collections of what used to be cars. Each glimpse of a white truck with a lumber rack or a white trailer caused me to pump the brakes. Making our way under the freeways we found lot after lot of abandoned vehicles, trailers that were lived in but may never move again, and assortments of oddities the likes of which one might find in a folk museum or at Burning Man. What we saw were parts of Oakland that neither of us had traveled to, some full of life and prosperity and others laden with decay and decline. Emboldened by this perceived righteous search, I took us to places that tested our comfortability. At one point I drove through a narrow passage in a fence underneath Interstate 580 to investigate what was within, no telling what lay inside and the eyes that greeted us from behind parted curtains and tinted windows were not welcoming. At another moment, we pulled up to a red light and watched as the car ahead of us did a drug deal. We sat quietly, noticing that the car next to us had someone sitting in it with their tinted windows cracked, watching everything.

Map tracking Ben and I's search.

I had heard that many stolen tools end up at the Oakland Flea Market so we ventured there to see what we could find. I was struck by how similar it was to the markets in Mexico with big produce stands filled with every kind of imaginable fruit and folks selling clothes, baskets, and every kind of ware. Oh, and there were tools. So many tools. That looked just like my tools. Yet I couldn't identify whether or not they were mine. I didn't have the serial numbers (a mistake I've now learned from) and the markings that I put to signify that they were mine were washed off like all the other markings that seem to have disappeared from the tools on these vendor's tables. It became clear that trying to find my tools in this haystack would be futile.

Ben at the Oakland Flea Market in front of a produce stand.

Me assessing one of the numerous tool vendor's goods at the Oakland Flea Market.

Having spent 6 hours in the car we decided to go to OPD Headquarters to chat with them and try and file a police report for Barry. Walking through the lobby scarcely occupied by more than the officer behind the counter and two other individuals, the echoes were loud. I told my story to the officer working behind the counter. He gave me a look of disbelief and reiterated that Jamey needed to be present to file a report for Barry, but upon reading the file he saw that precedent had been set. Begrudgingly he talked to Jamey on Facebook Messenger and same as before the report was filed. After doing so, I asked, “What happens now?” He informed me that B&B would be entered into a national stolen vehicle database and repeated what Officer Filer had shared, that if B&B were found I would have an hour to come and get them before they got impounded. Beyond that, just wait. It was clear that OPD doesn’t have the resources to look for every stolen vehicle. Curious about what he might suggest, I asked what places to check for B&B. He replied, “Nowhere you want to go.” I laughed and said, “We've already been there.” It was then that he informed me that if I did find B&B I should not drive them until they had been released to me by the police otherwise I could get pulled over at gunpoint for operating a stolen vehicle. This information stayed with me and will return later in the story.

It was becoming clear that the parameters for the search were large and that which was sought was quite small. The reality that I may never see B&B again started to solidify and I was forced to sit with the decisions I had made. It dawned on me the next day that a reward poster could help spread the word so I printed 100 of them, offering a $500 reward for B&B’s return. Tired, but recognizing that the window of opportunity was small, I searched and posted reward signs till the sun went down.

The reward poster I distributed and posted.

On the third day of the search, I set out early, again driving Ashur's red rocket Honda Fit since my Prius had had its catalytic converter stolen 4 months beforehand. Catalytic converter theft is rampant nationwide and Oakland is no exception, the highly valuable precious metals in the part have made it a common target for criminals and led to a national shortage of the part. Methodically going street by street, alley by alley, block by block, I drove from the lake all the way to 106th at the edge of Oakland stopping at encampments and chatting with folks who lived there hearing about their lives and if they had seen B&B. I received so much sympathy, empathy, and understanding. Most of the folks who lived in these places just wanted a place where they could feel safe and their belongings wouldn't be in danger of being stolen or demolished. I received a lot of advice about where to look, what might have happened to B&B, and also what the best reciprocating saw blades are for cutting out catalytic converters. June, who I met by the Alameda St. Home Depot, told me that I should go looking down on the railroad tracks off High St. and follow them up to 66th. She said that's where a lot of cars ended up. I went and was greeted by the smell of burning plastic before I even got on the tracks. As I rounded the corner someone was burning a pile of this, that, and the other things and was covered in soot. Strewn across the sides of the tracks were cars in various stages of assemblage. Folx in shacks, tents, and RVs were camped out next to their projects. They pulled wiring, metal bits, and every other thing that could be pulled off of the cars they worked on. Most of the cars I saw were Kia's and Hyundai's since the TikTok trend showing how to steal certain models with a screwdriver and an iPhone charger was in full swing. The scene was that of a graveyard, vehicles laid to rest, their headstones: the graffiti tagged on their burned shells.

Burnt-out cars along the tracks.

Just up the road, off of San Leandro St., I met some business owners who told me of the numerous commercial property break-ins that had occurred on their road and in the surrounding area. They were tired of the rampant theft. Apparently, every day, people come by trying to sell stolen goods. One guy told me, as he understood it, “These people can get away with whatever they want, even if they get caught they get released and handed a slip to show up in court, but the next day there they are at it again.” Everywhere I looked people referred me to San Leandro St. and the adjacent roads and indeed they were right as the street was lined with what appeared to be stolen and abandoned vehicles or ones that were currently being stripped. At one point while driving down the road I saw someone with a reciprocating saw cutting out pieces of a car in broad daylight. I hung my posters and distributed them to as many people as I could, returning home as the sun was going down.

I did this for two more days, retracing my steps checking blocks again, seeing glimpses of old white Ford trucks hoping that they were Betty. I wanted to know what had happened even if they were totaled and everything was gone. It was Wednesday, likely one week after B&B had been stolen. Leaving early in the morning, I searched for 10 hours. I had decided it would be the last day of searching since I had agreed to help Nate put some floors in his house and the window of time to do that was dwindling. As I began the drive home I decided to take a different route home down Edes Ave. Half looking, half wanting to just get home, I caught a glimpse of a trailer and quickly turned around to see what it was. I pulled onto Phelps St. and there they were: Betty and Barry, still attached, casually parked in front of someone's house as if they belonged there. Heart beating, screaming out loud, I approached cautiously, unsure of what I would find. Betty's bed was full of tires. Barry’s lock and the hasp to attach it to had been removed. Opening the doors to Barry, I was greeted by more tires. I called the police to report the found vehicles and in my excitement called 911. They kindly let me know that it was not an emergency and transferred me to the non-emergency line. When I talked to the dispatcher they said that they would send someone out as soon as they could.

B&B after I found them on Phelps St.

A neighbor across the street was working on a downed fence that had blown over in the recent storm. I asked them if they knew who lived there and they said an old woman who had recently transitioned to a nursing home. While this didn’t rule her out, it reduced the chances of her being involved. I could hardly believe my eyes – the very moment that I was driving home to call it quits I had found them. Just as I had suspected, the wing window had been broken and was now covered with duct tape. Otherwise, Betty was in great shape and started right up.

Communicating with the Finding Betty and Barry support team and WhatsApp group I asked if somebody could come and drive Ashur's car back so that I could drive B&B away after the police had released the vehicle to me. Lit and Ben said they could be there in 45 minutes. As I waited another neighbor came out of their house next to where I was parked. I asked them if they knew when B&B had shown up. They weren’t sure, but said they had a camera and could take a look. Searching back through, they discovered B&B had shown up on Saturday night and hadn't moved since. It had been an hour and a half since I called OPD so I called to check for an update, the dispatcher said it would be soon. Lit and Ben arrived a half hour later but there was no sign of the police. I called back and they told me that there were 140 people ahead of me. After waiting for 45 minutes, Lit took off and Ben remained with me.

This cat kept Ben, Lit, and I company while we waited for the police. Note the tires it's standing on in the back of Betty.

I'd been out since 8:00 am and it was now 11:00 p.m. Hunger had set in so we ran to In-N-Out to grab a bite to eat. Upon our return, as we rounded the corner back onto Phelps St. something was amiss; where there was once a truck and a trailer there was now just a trailer. In the half an hour that we had been gone, someone had stolen Betty, again. Furious and fuming, I called 911 and in 5 minutes two officers arrived on the scene. They were apologetic but said that they had just gotten on and that was the first call that they had taken. Confident, they said that they would find the truck that night but reiterated that if I found it I shouldn’t drive it because they needed to release it to me. Storming up and down the street I placed posters on every car window and was brazenly making my way through the neighborhood when Ben said to me “Hey Nick, I think we should get out of here.” Gruffly, I replied, “Why?!” “Because whoever took Betty was likely watching us and may still be.” Prior to that point, I had felt infallible, emboldened in my search, at that moment I realized the danger of what it was that I was doing. Pulling off of the street and down the road we stopped at a gas station trying to figure out what to do next: should we put a hitch lock on the trailer so that somebody could steal it? Should we return in daylight? Just then a car pulled up next to us, somebody got out, and yelled to the person sleeping in front of the door to the gas station, “come grab whatever you want man, I just jacked this shit!” We knew then, it was time to go home.

Barry standing alone after Ben and I returned from IN-N-OUT.

Receipt from IN-N-OUT. Ben joked it was the most expensive IN-N-OUT I'd ever had.

Baffled and somewhat defeated, I wondered what had just occurred. My search had yielded answers, yet at the moment in which I felt vindicated, certainty pulled away from me. Falling asleep it wasn’t clear what would come next. Resolved to prevent Barry from running away, I purchased a hitch lock and headed back to the fateful spot the next morning. There stood Barry, just where I'd left him awkwardly standing and waiting to be pulled. Opening his back doors I assessed the scene, tires stacked from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, front to back. When I opened the side door, staring back at me was the Buddha (a statue I’ve kept in Barry to keep an eye on things), a clever reminder from the universe that one of the greatest freedoms we have is how we respond. I pulled all the car tires out of the trailer, 86 in total, they really had stuffed them in there. Having counted the tires I decided it would be best to bring Barry to a new resting place. Frankus Flores kindly offered to let me borrow his truck and offered to let me store Barry in a secure place. First I'd need to wait for the OPD to release the vehicle to me, which, after my experience the night before meant that I could be there for a while.

Buddha, just inside the side door of the trailer.

It was at that moment that I had the eerie sense that I was being watched. I loaded the tires back into the trailer and saw a car parked two houses down with someone in the driver's seat staring at me. We held eye contact for a length of time that I generally reserve for lovers. Spooked, I continued what I was doing though a little bit faster than before. They got out of the car, walked across the street and into one house then back across the street and into another, then went back to the driver's door, opened it and started fiddling with something. That was my cue to go.

Jumping in the Red Rocket I drove towards 98th through the gauntlet of broken down cars and folx out on the corner playing dice, turning on 98th I looked across the street and there was Betty! Dumbfounded, I whipped across traffic in stunned disbelief. I pulled in front of her, opened the driver's side door and was greeted by a burned piece of tinfoil on the bench, but otherwise, it was in the same condition that it was in the night before, minus the truck bed full of tires. After trying the OPD nonemergency line and getting busy signals I consulted the B&B search committee. They said it was clear that waiting for the police would keep me there for an indeterminable amount of time. Lit suggested that I park the red rocket at airport parking and then drive Betty to the police station. Lit’s usually right, so that's just what I did. Expresso Airport Parking wouldn’t give me a ride in the opposite direction as the airport so I jogged back across the freeway and down the road past the fruit vendor and minivan encampment until I arrived back at Betty, who this time was still there. Google Maps directions to the Eastmont Police Station took me down Edes and as I passed Phelps and saw Barry, I thought to myself “I don't want to come back here.” So I pulled in front, backed it up, and hitched up Barry as yet again someone sat watching me with either curiosity or disdain. On my way to the station, I passed numerous police cars, each time wondering if they would pull me over at gunpoint. The last car I passed just before getting to the Eastmont station was the two cops from the night before.

Betty on 98th St. the second time I found her.

Me, after hitching Barry to Betty about to drive to the police station.

Walking into the station I told the officer behind the desk I had recovered my stolen vehicle for the second time. Impressed and a little confused, he told me I needed to call dispatch and have someone come out and release it to me. Baffled, I asked why he couldn’t do it, to which he replied: “Procedure.” I told him that there was a busy signal, to which he comically shared that sometimes he gets that from them too. Amazed at what I was experiencing, I decided to drive B&B back to City Acre. Arriving on Paloma Ave just in time to catch a ride to the airport with Rachelle who was going to pick up Marlena on her way back from Mexico. The synchronicity of Marlena finishing the trip and me finishing the search on the same day was wild. We all arrived back at City Acre triumphant and two hours after getting a hold of dispatch an officer came and released the vehicles to me.

The saga was complete…or was it? When I asked the officer what to do with the tires still in Barry he told me that because they were in my possession, they were now mine. I was now the proud owner of 86 used tires! Turns out the used tire business is booming since all these vehicles are getting stolen. I sold 54 tires for $5 a piece and gave the rest away.

After all that excitement Barry now lives under the careful watch of the Unreal Housewives of Euclid and Betty has been helping the community move, groove, and work. The lessons learned in this adventure were numerous and continue to be digested with time and perspective. I was lucky to find B&B and know that most who lose vehicles will never see them again. OPD doesn’t have the resources to search and I am fortunate to be in a position to have the time to do so. This experience exposed me to elements of the place where I live that have helped me understand more about what it is that surrounds me. By no means do I fully comprehend the complexities of this vibrant and dynamic city, but I now know a little bit more and can see a little bit clearer where I am.