Yet Another Car Story

Before I tell you this story, I should explain an odd habit of mine.  The post office, bank, and library are all within a few blocks of my house.  Because of this, I've gotten in the habit of driving straight home from work, then I walk around downtown to run my errands.  It's one of my favorite things about living in a small town.

The night in question was cold, perhaps in the twenties, but we'd just gotten out of a cold snap where the daily high was less than 10 degrees Fahrenheit, so I was feeling toasty.  I parked in front of my apartment and walked off to run my errands, taking only my purse and my car key with me.  I left my apartment key and the trappings from work in my car.

When I got back from running my errands, I pushed the Open button on my key fob.  Nothing.  I tried again.  Nothing.  Then, for the first time ever, I tried inserting the car key in the car door.  Klunk.  The key wouldn't turn all the way.  I tried again.  And again.  I walked around the car, and discovered that only the driver side door has a spot to insert a key.  Even the trunk doesn't have a key hole.

So there I was.  Standing by my car, parked just outside my apartment, and unable to get into either one.

By this time my neighbor came over to give me a hand.  Neither of us could break into my car.  He invited me into his house to wait while I called a locksmith, but I didn't want to be an imposition on an almost total stranger.  He seemed nice enough, but I'd only met him once before.  I did ask him if he had a phone book, so I was able to look up a locksmith and call for help.  Then I thanked my neighbor and said I'd figure things out.

While I was waiting for the locksmith (who told me it would take at least an hour and a half), I noticed that my landlord was uncharacteristically still in the building (I live above his office).  I walked into his office right as the secretary was closing up for the night.  I explained my predicament, and my landlord grabbed his keys and let me in to my apartment.

When the locksmith finally came, I stepped outside to greet him.  “I can't figure it out.” I said.  “Usually I just use my key fob, but it's not working.  See?”  I pushed the button.  My car door unlocked.

And that's the end of the story.  The only thing I can figure is that it was a cold enough night that the key fob didn't want to work.  After an hour and a half of being inside, the key fob thawed enough to work properly.

What about the fact that the actual key didn't work?  The locksmith couldn't get that part to work either, which helped me realize I was not crazy.  He said he'd have to take the door apart to figure it out.  I thought that sounded expensive, and like my car might be out of commission for a few days, so I told him I'd wait a bit.  This week, when I finally had the time to take my car in to the shop, it turned out that my car door is still under warranty (thanks to the deer who ran into me a year and a half ago).  Forty-five minutes later, my car door now opens with both a key fob and a key, and I didn't have to pay a thing!  Thanks to the deer, I guess?

A random coda: Consider this a bonus for reading so much of a boring story.  A few weeks after being locked out of my car, I found a note stuck under one of my windshield wipers.  It was from my helpful neighbor.  He said he wasn't being creepy, he just wondered if we could go for a coffee sometime.  Little did he know, this is the second neighbor to leave a note on my car, asking me out.  While both men are nice, they are both a lot older than I am.  It makes me wonder: When was it considered socially acceptable to stalk a person's car?  Perhaps I'm being too hard on him.  He is nice.  But I still turned him down.  Because I'm mean.