The Case of the Missing Key

Most of the move went smoothly. We even went so far as to admit to each other that nothing really difficult had happened to throw a wrench in things.




Big mistake.



Along with a zillion other Fords, Garrett's truck was recalled. We didn't have much time when we were home, so we had to cram in time to take it to the dealer. It seemed necessary. I mean, who wants a car that spontaneously combusts, right?



Anyway, when the time came, he couldn't find his key. Anywhere. We looked all over the place. He long ago lost the automatic locker with the car alarm. I think he must have been using his spare because I didn't have one. He didn't have it on a keychain, either. Our growing concern was that I'd thrown the only existing key in the trash or in a random box because the number of random and seemingly homeless keys I discovered while packing was astounding.





Several hours and $65 later, a nice guy from Econolock supplied us with a key.





The next day we found the key under the bed. That's it beside my boxed wedding dress.Keys are like socks in the laundry. Sometimes they have a mind of their own.

When he finally left to go to the dealer, I heard a loud car alarm that lasted a long time. Eventually, it dawned on me that it sounded familiar, so I went outside. There was Garrett's truck with the hood up. I called to him, but he couldn't hear me. Then, just as quickly as the annoying noises had begun, they silenced.

Garrett emerged from behind the truck and marched toward me with a dirty black object in his hand.

All of the tools were packed. The car alarm thingamabob was long gone. So, he did what any red blooded American man would do.

He ripped it out with his bare hands. Grrr.