I just happen to have great neighbors, you know like in those State Farm commercials. They have to always be vigilant in order to bail me out of the frequent misadventures I seem to be involved in. One recent "geezerism" will serve to illustrate my point.
My wife's Honda finally gave-up the ghost and she used her feminine wiles to hijack my Altima to go to work. I was left home on a Saturday without transportation or chips, so I approached my neighbor of twelve years, Mr. Jones (real name) to borrow one of his pick-ups to run a couple of quick errands. I was hoping to borrow the older pickup which was kind of a "beater" compared to his nice, new Chrysler. Well he didn't hesitate to give me the keys to the newer one, despite my objections and I was off on my quest for a new cartridge for my thirsty ink-jet printer.
Since I had my neighbor's nice truck, I locked it and went inside Staples to apply for the loan I would need to make my Epson inkjet cartridge purchase! I returned to the parking lot a few minutes later, reached into my pocket and produced the fancy key faub needed to regain entry to my ride. To my irritation, no amount of pressing of the key faub or trying the keys in the door, helped me to open the door! Simple, I'd just use my cell to call Wally for an explanation and he'd better have a good one. Much to my chagrin, I had left my phone at home and after trying the doors again, I knew I would have to walk home and confront my friend. To say the distance between Staples and our street was something like the distance between Marathon and Athens, might be a slight exaggeration. I think I lost a few pounds on the walk inspired by the example of Kirstie Alley on the Jenny Craig Diet!
During my forced march home, I tried running through all the scenarios as to why the key didn't open a truck I had just driven a few minutes prior. How callous of my neighbor to just not let me borrow the old truck that I wouldn't need to lock or even use seatbelts in! When I finally reached his driveway and knocked on his door and told him my sad tale of woe, I probably sounded somewhat indignant at my plight. He took one look at the keys I tried to press into his hands and calmly informed me that those weren't the keys to his fancy vehicle! How was this possible? I was at a loss! I then reached into my pockets and eureka, his keys emerged. I swear, he could barely stifle that grin as he handed me back my own key faub, house and car keys!
Oh yea, he was then kind enough to give me a ride in the old beater pickup back to the parking lot to rescue his vehicle. He swore to never speak of this again! ...sad, but true!
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