Back in '79, I had my '69 Caprice "broken into" (doors weren't locked, keys were hanging on the driver's-side kick panel vent knob)...I walked out to the car at 0730 in the morning (after having gotten home from the bars only a few hours before (at 0230!))...
Both doors were open, dome light was on, all my 8-track tapes (YEP! They went after the RCA-Under-Dash unit w/security screws on the bracket) were spread over two neighborhood yards...I was MAJOR PI$$'D!!!
I checked everything over - the only thing damaged was the front bezel on the 8-track player, a little round 'dent' where it appeared that they got pi$$e'd that they couldn't get the unit out, so they hit the front of it with a hammer - dented it, but they didnt' break it.
ANYWAYS, after canvassing the neighborhood, I found out from a couple of the local "heads" that a few kids from the south side of town had been cruising the area during the previous two weeks in a beat-up '64, 4-dr., primered, Impala.
Sure enough, about an hour or so after bar-time two days later, the car was cruising my block...two kids were walking down the streets, "checking" car doors and the driver was trailing them with his lights off...I walked out the front door of my place (so they wouldn't see me) and continued to see where they were headed...and they ended up at my car (this time-locked) and they checked the doors. They didn't get in and they continued on.
I then made the "plan."
After they cleared the neighborhood, I got on my 10-speed and did a little ride. I was riding a wave of luck. I spotted the car, at a house, next to a popular bar on the south side.
I scoped the car out the next few nights, then one Tuesday morning, about 0400, I ended up dumping about two cups of regular AND powdered sugar into the gas tank, followed with a "poured" (HARD AS HELL TO DO!) bread-bag-sized amount of styro-foam beads (from a bean-bag chair) and it was all followed up with a good wash/flush/rinse-down of two pints of rubbing alcohol.
Never saw the car my neighborhood again. But I eventully saw it in a local scrap yard about two weeks later. Yard-guy said that the dad couldn't keep HIS car running. Dad had to pay the yard-guy $50.00 to flatbed it to its final resting place.
Thank God I didn't start bragging 'bout the car being there 'cause I caused it to die!
But, I didn't shed a tear over the 'lil ba$t@rd$ having to walk to their favorite haunts. However, I did consider finding out the dad's name and leaving an "anonymous" note/call about why he was "hooving it" 'cause of the kids' antics. But, I figured, sooner or later, he was going to be made aware of what was going on in his house (As if he, maybe, didn't already know...). I just considered his car being a "tip of the iceberg" of the problems he was dealing with. I didn't need to pour more salt into his festering wounds.
I already did enough pouring!