...of a time in college when I locked my keys in the car.
The memory made me smile, thinking back on how great my sister is and what total geeks we were (are.)
I was at the gym. This was back when I actually used my gym membership. I had finished my workout, walked out to my 1972 bright-blue-beater of a Toyota, and realized my keys were locked inside.
Not knowing what to do, I called my little sister, Ellen, to come help me out. She didn't have a spare key, but she drove over anyway, just to offer her support. That's just the kind of person she is.
We put our brilliant, MacGyver-like minds together to figure out a plan. Picture the A-team using a q-tip, three strands of hair, and a pair of contacts to build a bomb.
We pooled our money ($2.14) and walked over to a tiny, ancient hardware store in the same shopping center to see what we could find.
We looked around, scratched our chins, and looked around again. Five minutes later we left the store with a broom and a roll of duct tape. When in doubt, always reach for the duct tape. At least, that's my dad's motto.
We went back to my junkmobile and got to work.
At some point during this operation, a friend parked nearby to go into the gym. We ducked for cover. This is not the type of situation in which you want your friends to see you. I mean, we had reputations to uphold.
Anyway, We used the duct tape to attach her car key to the end of the broom. Then we wedged the broom through the back window, up to the front of the car. We carefully slipped the key into the unlock lever.
And it worked. I know. We couldn't believe it either.
Good times, good times.
Then there was the time Ellen came to bail me out when I locked my keys in the car at the gas station.
And the time Ellen came to bail me out when I locked my keys in the car (in the ignition with the car running) when I was eating at Arby's...
Yeah, I'm good at locking my keys in my car.
Awwww...the memories. Love you, Ellen.