In South Carolina, in the early 70's, as a teenager, I made a leather watchband that, by the late 70's, bore a watch given to me by my girlfriend while I was in college. Within a few years, both the band and the watch's face had identifiable scrapes and scratches that I knew intimately. By this point, the watch was kept in my car on a dashboard shelf in plain sight.
In the spring of 1980, I finished college and relocated to Warner Robins, Georgia for my first engineering job, taking an apartment in a complex along a street that skirted several complexes. My car, a modest VW Rabbit, was normally kept unlocked overnight in front of the apartment as I never kept anything of real value in the car.
The watch was still being kept in the car, and still visible on the dash. Its value was sentimental, not monetary, really, and I wasn't worried about it.
Having played a lot of basketball in the gym in college, I looked for and eventually discovered a court a mile or so away from my apartment, on which a good game of ball could be found most days, and I began showing up to play.