Yes, I promise.
And these aren't my keys.
Moving on.... Mayberry is cold. The low this morning was 19 with a wind chill of 7. Brrrrrrr!
I may or may not have worn my Carhartts to work. Did I mention I don't work outside? Because I don't. It's actually kind of a desk job, but that's not my point.
My point is (I promise there is one) this: its cold and I'm acting blonde.
This morning the roads were slick with snow and ice so my little sister asked me to take her to work. Since our jobs are only about a quarter mile apart and just a few minutes from our house, I obliged. The problem would normally be that she has to be at work at 7 while I have until 8. So what does Rach do when there is an hour to kill and the roads are slick?
She plays.
As soon as my sis was out of the truck, I peeled out of the parking lot with one destination in mind: a twisty, curvy, narrow highway a few miles from town. But, much to my disappointment, the road I was so certain would be untouched and slicker than dog snot on a frozen cow pie, was in fact clear. Very clear. Like there was no such thing as snow. It was quite disheartening.
With my shoulders low, I went back to see my sister and tell her about the road situation, and maybe make her feel bad for bumming a ride to start with since all the roads were fine.
Upon pulling up to her place of employment, I decided to come in the back door so I could sneak up on her and maybe get a squeal. She's so fun to mess with like that. I parked my truck in employee parking, which is nothing new, left my keys in the ignition (again, nothing new) and then proceeded to carry out my plan.
Walking in the shop door around the side of the building, I was greeted by some of her co-workers and made small talk about the weather, diesel fumes and girl scout cookies. Minutes later, I successfully snuck up behind desk and in the blink of an eye my hands were on her back and she jumped about five feet in the air, then quickly punched me in he back as I was trying to turn away. Touchdown. My goal was met, despite my own physical ailment, which is still stinging a couple hours later.
I said my goodbyes and told her I'd pick her up at noon, then I was out the door. But, there was a problem. My door wouldn't open.
What?!
I tried again but to no avail.
Peering through the tinted window I see the keys are still in the ignition and the doors are most definitely locked. A four letter word may have been uttered as I turned to go back inside with my pride dragging behind.
"I thought you left. Don't you have to get to work?" One of the guys in the shop was just as puzzled as me about my presence as I walked through the shop door.
"Uh, yea, about that... I need a BIG favor. You guys busy?"
"What did you do?" he already knew i must have been in trouble a he rolled his 20-year-old eyes at me.
"Um, I kinda locked my keys in the truck." An attempted laugh failed miserably here. Note to self: don't laugh when you're asking someone to break in your truck when the wind chill is seven degrees and they have things they need to do anyways that don't involve helping you.
Thankfully, he walked to the back of the shop, grabbed some wire and I followed him back outside in the frigid air. After a couple minutes of nothing working, he said he needed a better wire and when we headed back inside the other three guys asked me what was going on and I could only laugh.
"Well... It's a funny story." I proceeded to tell them about my keys and they laughed and shook their heads. Then, myself and four men headed outside to tackle this truck. But, as if my clumsiness hadn't shone through enough, I fell flat on my hind end after my second step out the door. Seriously, my middle name should be Grace.
The guys went right to work, gathered around my blue Chevrolet with wires, coat hangers, and I think even a block of wood which kinda made me nervous. I kept looking at my watch, realizing I was supposed to be at work by now. Crap.
I asked them to just let me know if they got it open but I had to walk to work really quickly. One points to his truck and says "Keys are in it." Not knowing if he was serious or joking, a bewildered expression made it's way across my face. "You can take it." I thanked him as I ran off towards his red diesel, fired it up and pulled out.
I got this text about ten minutes later: "Got it after bustin the window."
Excuse me? Do what? Busted window? You gotta be kiddin' me!
Thankfully, he was joking, as everybody who knows me knows how serious I am about that truck. The good thing is that now my truck is unlocked across the street while there is still a truck that doesn't belong to me parked in my spot behind this building.
I guess we'll trade trucks when I go to pick up my sister. But I have to wonder... How in the world am I gonna live this down?
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