This Monday morning wasn’t supposed to start like this.
I was meant to be suited up and seated in a business meeting in west London by 9:30.
Instead, at 9:45, I found myself walking through a North London council estate in Edmonton, sweating in the June heat and feeling very out of place in a tie and blazer.
My neighbour Jim was by my side, towering and calm, but even he couldn’t make us blend in.
A man on the balcony gave us the kind of stare that said, “You don’t belong here.”
But none of that mattered anymore—because I was staring at my missing car.
My Stolen Car Was Sitting Right There—Untouched
There it was: my matte-silver Hyundai Ioniq 5, parked perfectly outside a block of flats.
Not a scratch, no broken windows, and weirdest of all, both my keys were still in my pocket.
It had vanished from our street just hours earlier in the dead of night—and somehow ended up here, seven miles away.
This surreal moment capped off a frantic morning of realising we’d been robbed, trying to contact the police and insurance, and piecing together clues with help from an app.
A Car Theft Epidemic That’s Exploding
We’re not alone. In fact, we’ve joined a growing crowd of frustrated car owners across England and Wales.
Car thefts have nearly doubled over the past decade—up from about 70,000 a year in 2014 to more than 129,000 in 2024.
Insurance premiums are climbing, while the police seem either overwhelmed or uninterested.
And the main culprit behind this rise? Keyless car theft.
It’s not just some rare, high-tech anomaly anymore—almost half of all stolen cars last year were keyless.
The Clever Devices Making It All Too Easy
Thieves don’t need to smash windows anymore.
They use gadgets to hijack the wireless signal between your key and your car.
A few years ago, they used something called a relay box—basically a signal extender that could trick your car into thinking your key was nearby.
Now, the tool of choice is something called an emulator.
It copies your car’s signal in seconds and unlocks it like magic.
Even more shocking? These devices are legally sold online for thousands of pounds, often disguised as things like Nintendo Game Boys and pitched as “tools” for drivers who’ve lost their keys.
Organised Crime Is Getting In On the Action
With resale demand booming—especially for electric vehicles and luxury cars—organised crime groups are jumping in.
Stolen cars are often shipped abroad to buyers who’ll pay top dollar.
And guess what? My Hyundai Ioniq 5 is high on the hit list. One man even caught his on CCTV being stolen in under 20 seconds and is planning legal action against Hyundai.
Car manufacturers say they’re trying to keep up, but they’re fighting a high-tech arms race—and they started way too late.
The Police? Not Exactly Winning This Battle
If you’re wondering how the police are handling this wave of theft, the short answer is: they’re not.
In 100 neighbourhoods last year, not a single car thief was caught. Out of more than 130,000 reported thefts, only 2% led to a conviction.
And in London? The Met Police is among the worst offenders, often closing cases within 24 hours.
It’s no wonder that, like some other frustrated victims, I decided to take matters into my own hands and try to retrieve my stolen car myself.
How an App Led Us to the Car’s Hiding Spot
After calling our insurer and reporting the theft, my wife and I checked the Hyundai Bluelink app, which tracks car activity.
It showed that our car had been taken on a joyride between 1:28am and 2:53am—13 miles at speeds up to 70mph.
But that wasn’t the good part.
Digging deeper, we found a location pin on the map—our car was parked next to the Edmonton Federation Cemetery, just off the North Circular.
With the clock ticking before the thieves could move it again, we decided to act.
A Quiet Mission with a Glaswegian Backup
Enter Jim, my 6ft-plus Glaswegian neighbour, who’s had two cars stolen in the past three years.
He didn’t hesitate to join me. While we headed to the estate, my wife contacted the police, who said they’d send someone to meet us there.
Sure enough, we found the car exactly where the app said.
Fifteen minutes later, I was back behind the wheel, heading down the North Circular like nothing had happened.
But the experience left more questions than relief.
The Police Didn’t Seem That Bothered
The officer on the scene took down my details and asked if there was anything inside the car worth checking for evidence.
When I pointed to a plastic panel that had been ripped off the dashboard and tossed on the floor, suggesting it might be worth dusting for prints, he just shrugged.
The Mercedes parked nearby—which looked just as suspicious—was ignored too.
Instead, he offered me advice on steering locks. That was about it.
And the Manufacturer’s Response? Pretty Underwhelming
Hyundai didn’t show much concern either. We ended up paying £250 to fix the car’s wiring and were told we could reprogram our key for another £100—though the dealership admitted it wouldn’t do much good.
Thieves could simply clone another one.
It’s kind of ridiculous that you can cancel a stolen bank card with a tap, but when your £50,000 car is compromised, the best advice is: “Buy a steering lock.”
Locking Down and Hoping for the Best
So now, our Ioniq 5 lives on the street again—but with a few extra defences.
We’ve got a big, old-school steering lock and keep our keys in Faraday pouches that block signals when not in use.
Will it be enough to stop the thieves next time? Who knows.
But for now, at least, the car’s home.
And we’ve become just another family learning the hard way how modern car crime works—and how little is being done to stop it.