Last summer. Sun in the sky, top down on the car, a friend I hadn’t seen in far too long sitting in the passenger seat. A perfect day —
Random warning light on the dashboard. Dead car. Mystery message staring up at me from behind the steering wheel. Words, not icons. Even I knew that wasn’t good.
“No Key in Vehicle.”
I’d been driving for half an hour, what do you mean, there’s no key in the car?
Frantic search, my bag, the seats, the floor, the glove compartment, the armrest — no key.
The rep at the car dealership was incredibly helpful, “Yeah, that’s weird.”
CAA couldn’t get my car on the tow truck. They searched YouTube, dug under the gear shift, opened the trunk, closed trunk.
My friend leaned into me, “I think I saw something.”
Yep. The key was in the trunk.
Apparently, I’d been driving around for days with the key in the trunk instead of in my bag. Who knew?
The car drove just fine until I took a roundabout. The key banged about inside the trunk, slid out of sensor range — warning light, mystery message, car that refused to go anywhere.
Naturally, I felt like the world’s biggest moron, but in my own defense neither the guy at the car dealership nor the one who showed up with the tow truck figured it out either. I mean, my car told me there was No Key in Vehicle. You’d think she’d know.
On the way home that night, it occurred to me — This would never have happened to a guy.
Because guys have pockets.
They have pockets in everything, their pants, their shirts, their jackets. They have exterior pockets and interior pockets.
Sure, men can cart around a backpack, a computer case, a cute little leather clutch, but — their keys are in their pocket.
Not in the trunk of the car.
Aimer at Amazon