We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember "Phil Anthropist" saying something like:
The trick is to mislead the bastards. On the same principle as having a dummy car radio front that's off a model nobody in their right mind would want to steal, it might work to deter them if all they could see when they looked through the window was a grubby worn old bench and a few rusty hand tools. The better stuff would be under the bench, out of sight, while the valuable stuff would be in the house.