Jim moves a street sign
Occurred: Fall 2000

Stealing street signs is a classic form of entertainment and vandalism. Taking down a street sign can be an elaborate mission run under the cover of darkness with camouflage and a toolkit. The theft of a sign can be a well orchestrated plan with co-conspirators, transportation, and escape routes. You can also just rip it down in a drunken rage and run. 

I remember stealing my first street sign when I was ten years old, no alcohol was involved. It was the sign across the street from my house. A few years later I had four of the exact sign in my back yard. Who wouldn’t want a ten foot tall metal trophy with your nearest cross streets on it?

Stolen street signs are trophies. Some are common and some are rare. Any hoodlum can get a STOP, YIELD or speed limit sign. They are small and require one wrench. A good trophy will tell you where it came from. It shouts, “I was stolen from Ocean Avenue!”

The sign-stealing climax of my life (so far) occurred when I was seventeen. I was with three of my best childhood friends. We were having a serious meeting on the deck of my house. Overlooking the harbor we sat at a white metal wire frame bar. We watched cars drive by as we smoked blunts and contemplated our plans for the night.

Someone mentioned hanging out at MPM’s house. MPM and I never really got along. His long-term girlfriend was my short-term booty call. The name I choose for him is an acronym of a 1987 fictional puppet. One of the M’s stands for “Monster”. He looks just like the guy. Despite his grotesque appearance and bad attitude MPM had a nice house, large bank account, and frequently threw parties. I tolerated him.

It turned out MPM was out of town. In fact he was out of the country.

Now I have no idea what caused me to formulate the plan, but the second it came to me I knew what our agenda was for the night. I passed the Dutch Master and spoke up, “Guys, lets steal the Gay Street sign from town and put it in MPM’s backyard”.

There was a brief moment of silence and then laughter. The conversation reverted back to a plan of obtaining alcohol and contacting girls with questionable moral fortitude.
 
I spoke up again, “No seriously guys, lets do it.”

Seeing that I meant business they began questioning the logistics of the operation (as any solid crew would do). How would we get the sign out of the ground? How would we transport it? How would we steal a sign in the middle of a crowded town and not get caught? How would we replant it in MPM’s backyard?

Forty-five minutes and two blunts later the four of us left in the only car we had access to, my mom’s Mazda Miata.

Two miles to our target: Gay Street. The Miata approaches.

I’m driving. Jake is sitting in shotgun. Dave and Tony are sitting on the folded down sunroof trying not to fall out. We are heading east towards town. There is a shovel in the trunk.

The Gay Street sign is located in the center of town at the corner of Gay Street and Main Street. Gay Street only runs on the south side of Main Street and eventually leads to a few houses on the water. Main Street has two lanes on each side going east and west; Gay Street runs perpendicular to Main Street. Standing next to the Gay Street sign will yield you visible from all angles. The only option is a smash and grab.

Coming from the east I drop off Tony and Dave at the outskirts of town. They setup lookout positions on the west and east sides of the street. I drive down Gay Street and perform a U-turn. I turn the car lights off and begin to slow down. The car is now motionless on the access road about thirty feet before Main Street. There are buildings on both sides of the car and it can only be viewed from directly across the street. It’s 10pm on a weekday and the fancy clothing stores across the street are closed.

Jake gets out of the car and runs to the corner. He makes visual contact with both of the lookouts and signals to me. I get out of the Miata. Not a word is spoken.

Jake and I quickly approach the sign. It’s a standard New York street sign: “Gay St”. Awesome.

Red bricks and loose dirt surround the base of the sign. Jake and I rip up the red bricks as fast and as quietly as we can. With most of the bricks out of the way we begin a good ol’ fashion heave ho. I push he pulls, he pushes I pull. We get some leverage going and the sign is out of the ground in less than a minute. Jake and I awkwardly run back to the car trying not to drop the massive metal street sign. Our lookouts abandon their posts and run to the car. All four of us get into the Miata with the street sign hanging out the back. We pull away and quickly start heading towards MPM’s house.

In order to get to MPM’s house we must pass by two consecutive stoplights one hundred feet apart from each other. They lights are next to the town’s police station and fire station.

As we go down the hill towards the first light I see a cop car pulling out of the police station. He makes a left turn pulling ahead of us. I slow down every so slightly. Both of the lights turn red. The police car is waiting at the second red light. I am slowly rolling towards the first red light with three additional passengers and a freshly stolen street sign in a two-seater sports car.

I realize how many laws I’m breaking at once and get very scared.

There is nowhere to turn or pull over. I have no other options expect for going straight. I’m easing the car at six miles per hour down the hill in neutral. I can feel everyone in the car holding their breath.

The lights turn green. The cop speeds away. He didn’t see us.

MPM.’s house is around the corner and we quickly get there. No one is home. We grab the shovel and walk around his fence to the backyard. Soon the sign is planted straight between the swimming pool and tool shed of MPM’s backyard. The sign is in perfect view of MPM’s bedroom window. The dirt is replaced and we re-lay the cut up grass.

Gay Street. Awesome.

We get back home safely and celebrate with a blunt.

As we discuss our sign stealing victory someone laments “Oh man… we should have made up a little piece of paper with a ransom note and placed it under the bricks. We could have been the ______ Hampton Sign Bandits!”

I guess there is always room for improvement.