Sunday, May 3, 2009

The Importance of Spare Keys

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, and I fear mine is on the verge of dementia. I can prove it. Today, I drove with my husband to the airport for his flight to his mothers in Arizona. In front of the check-in counter, we stopped, he got out to get his bags and I promptly exited the car to assume the driver's role. Problem began when he closed the trunk. I kissed him goodbye and went to the driver's door...locked!

Now, he had to hurry to check-in and I assured him I would be fine. He no sooner left the area than my palms became sweaty, my heard scudded against my breastbone, and I felt sick. My purse, phone, everything was in the car...even the pills I needed for the rising panic I felt. And the car was running.

Already a line of traffic formed behind me, assuming like everyone else, we would drop off and move on. Surprise, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

The first person I snared was a traffic control woman. She was full of giggles because she couldn't figure out her radio. Each time she depressed the key, it beeped loudly, rendering it useless. I finally managed to explain my dire situation after she went on for ten minutes about her radio and how so and so put her on the current channel, but now it seemed to be off-line, and she wasn't supposed to be off-line, after could she call anyone? "How about that cell phone in your hand," I asked. In ten minutes another traffic control person showed up, played around with her radio, declared it broken, and left. She phone another number, this time requesting assistance for ME.

Another twenty minutes and Passenger Assistance shows up in a white truck with flashing yellow lights atop. To shorten my anguish, I'll simply say, the wonderful man jimmied my door, opened my window and unlocked my car. I was overjoyed to be on my way, but hugged him first. Not just a little hug, but a big bear-squeeze that left him breathless. No...not breathless in the sexual way, but because I literally squeezed the air out of him.

So, while headed down the highway in the pouring Tennessee rain, I started thinking about my blog. A sudden flash of memory raced through my brain...recalling the time I blogged about locking Spencer in the car. Perhaps you remember? Right after I got the PT Cruiser, and how I fell to pieces with guilt. But...I digress.

Another thought struck me...after the Spencer incident, I swore it would never happen again, and marched right down and had a spare key made and put it in a magnetic box, then Kelly attached it to the car's underside. Yep...when I got home, I had my son check, and it wasn't just a false image. There it was...snug as a bug in it's little case...that spare key. I could have saved myself and others a big headache if I had a brain.

Sad, I can't get a spare memory, but then if I put that in a magnetic box and stored it somewhere, what would I have to buy to help me remember where I put that? Life is a vicious circle these days. :(


K.T. Bishop said...

I always keep spare keys. I made an extra set for the child to have of our keys and house

unwriter said...

I locked the keys in the car we have now. My friend was with me and we called her son-in-law. He came and used his jimmy to get us out (they have a lot of cars in the family and someone is always locking them in.) I got smart and had five keys made!

A week later, after a long weekend with little sleep, my friend promised not to call me the next day or text me. However, she got to work, then texted me that she had just locked her keys in her car. I happen to have a key for her car as she does mine for this very reason. I went and unlocked it for her. Again she promised the next day she wouldn't bother me (her calls and texts never bother me though). The next morning I get a text from her, she had a flat tire at work. We got that taken care of and no more promises not to call.

J K Maze said...


That's one funny story, but I don't suppose it was while it was happening. Reminds me of the time I took my two little girls to the circus at Soldier Field in Chicago and locked my keys in the huge parking lot.

I don't think you've lost your mind, just temporarily misplaced it - like we all do.

I'm going to buy your book.

Joan Maze

J K Maze said...


I just read my comment. Guess my mind took a vacation while I wrote the comment. I didn't leave my keys in the parking lot, but in the car in the lot.

Joan Maze

Lisabet Sarai said...

Giggle! I know it wasn't funny at the time, but you manage to make it humorous in retrospect.

These things do happen. Even to young folks. I remember locking my keys in the car at the Pasadena Botanical Gardens, decades ago when I was a sweet young thing. (Okay, maybe I was never "sweet"...!)


Danielle Thorne said...

I'm glad I'm not the only person in the world these things happen to--because when it does happen, it feels like it!

Chris Redding said...

Don't cars have electronic locks nowadays?
You cannot lock my car with the key (electronic) when you are inside the car. It won't.
Otherwise I would have locked my key in the car a long time ago.

Celia Yeary said...

Ginger--hi! I finished Sparta Rose a long time ago, and wanted to send you a message by e-mail. But I didn't find your name on The Book Spa members list. Did we lose you? Hope we did nothing wrong.
I guess we all have lost key stories, so I'll forego that to say how much I enjoyed SR. It's the sort of story I really like, and you did some very nice writing. Hope to hear from you--Celia Yeary

Molly Daniels said...

Reminds me of the time my son tried to put out a candle on the stove using a bath brush. I went looking for the dutch oven lid; couldn't find it; thought ''s not grease' and tossed water on it.


After we flagged down someone to help us with the fire extinguisher in the hallway and got the kids out of the apartment, my neighbor called the fire department. In the meantime, the passer-by sprays CO2 all over my tiny kitchen.

After the fire was out, the lid I was looking for was in the sink, and I'd completely forgotten about the small extinguisher we'd gotten for Christmas the previous year!

My husband, who'd left to mail a package, came home 45 minutes after he'd left to find a white kitchen, a fire truck blocking his parking space, and a gaping hole in our wall above the stove!

Nancy Famolari said...

Nice article. I got very good at breaking into my car before I started hiding a spare set of keys!!

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