The locks on my trusty Honda are acting up, like a sullen teenager testing the boundaries of a parent’s sanity.
The locks always unlock. As for locking? Hmm … your chances range around 40 percent, tops. Some times, I’ll go for days with fully functioning power locks, and it is glorious. And then, they won’t work. At all. And people will think I’m going calisthenics in my car, when really I’m just reaching all around, attempting to lock all for doors.
I took the car to the shop. As they were testing the locks with their handy, magical computer, my sullen teenager stood up straight, actually combed the hair out of his eyes and behaved like a real, live car. The locks worked. The car dudes couldn’t fix the locks because, well, they weren’t broken.
But they did tell me that the issue was caused by either a kinda expensive thingy or a really expensive other thingy. Basically, my locks are trapped in adolescence until I either win the lotto or buy a new car.
I had sort of made peace with this all. Yes, my car is starting to show some wear, but I don’t have a car payment! Lookit me – free as a bird!
Well, free as a bird until this morning.
I took Foxie Doxie and Lil’ Frankfurter to the vet to get boarded. Puppy Love Lisa is out of town, so the kids have to slum it and stay with the commoners at the vet while My Guy and I make a quick trip to visit his fam.
The pups were thrilled to run into the car, and they loaded into the kennel with no fuss. I drove to the vet and parked in the packed parking lot. As is my custom, I got out of the car, then got in the backseat, next to the kennel. I shut the car door, opened the kennel, and threw leashes around the now-rabid pack.
Then, I opened the car door. Or, rather, I tried to open the car door. The car door that was obviously unlocked. But wouldn’t open.
Somehow, the child safety feature on my car locks had become engaged.
So, I sat in the backseat of my car, two doxies screaming with excitement and shedding all over my black dress. I knew what I had to do.
I threw them back in their kennel. I took a quick look around to make sure there was only a small crowd in the parking lot instead of a growing throng of onlookers. And then, I climbed over the center console and into the passenger-side front seat.
Did I mention I was wearing a dress? And I climbed around my automotive jungle gym in a dress, probably giving a biology lesson to any children who happened past, all just to free myself from the confines of my Honda and its teen angst?
Happy Independence Day, indeed.