I’m an avid nature lover; I like to drive to the state park and meander among the trees when my mind is overstuffed or I just want some alone time. Without my set of wheels, a trip to the park was not in my future. I tried to “make do” here at home, but there is just so much meandering around four trees you can do before you get bored. There are also not many hiding places away from the kids. I have the option of either walking down the drive or hiding under the house with the rattlesnakes, and I really don’t think the snakes want a new neighbor.
Just before I thought I would lose my sanity, my “knight in shining armor,” my hubby, came to the rescue. He’s gone for a whole week to a conference, but before he left, he rented me a Toyota Corolla. My hero!
After he left on Sunday, I loaded the kids into the Corolla. I needed to exchange some things at the store, and not only would the trip be refreshing, it would make time pass faster. Happily, I sank into the driver’s seat and turned the key. Nothing. No way! This can’t be happening to me, I fumed. I checked that the car was in park, and tried again, nothing.
“You and Robert get out of the car and go inside while I call the rental place,” I barked at Seth while fumbling for my cell phone. I walked a few yards away and dialed the number. My children stared at me from the back seat of the car. Why are they still sitting there? I wondered.
I got an answering machine at the rental place. Darn it, they’re closed. I stomped back to the car and looked for another contact number.
“Did you know you, or do you care we’re locked in the back?” Jonathan asked me icily. Huh? Oh, there must be child safety locks in the back. I looked at the back doors, and sure enough, there were the child safety locks. I
“Sorry buddy,” I said, flipping the lock back on one of the doors. I tried the outside handle to the door and, nothing. It wouldn’t open. What the. . . I reached my arm into the back of the car and tried that handle, again nothing. What is this thing, Christine? I finally found the roadside service number on the receipt and called it.
“________rental cars road side service. Are you in a safe place?” a guy at the other end of the phone asked.
“Yeah, I’m in my driveway.”
“Well, you can’t get any safer than that,” the guy chuckled. “What’s the problem?”
I told the guy my problem, and he said it was the security system on the car. He told me you have to put your foot on the brake to start the car. If you don’t the car assumes it’s being stolen and the ignition system shuts down. The helpful guy told me how to override the system and get the car started.
“Is anything else wrong with the car?” he asked.
“It’s eaten my children.”
“Eaten your children? Whadda ya mean it’s eaten your children?” he screeched. I thought from his previous comments he had a jovial sense of humor. Either my comment caught him off-guard, or there really is something to my Christine theory, I thought.
“I’m sorry. I was joking about the ‘eaten’ part. The rear doors will not open, even with the child safety locks unlocked.”
The guy, obviously relieved his car did not turn demonic, said when the car sense it is about to be stolen, it shuts everything off and even disables the locks. I hung up and eyed the car. Many things in my life have made me doubt my abilities, but never a car, until now. I cautiously eased into the driver’s seat and tried what the rep advised. It worked!
The boys cheered as we drove off, but were silenced when the doors locked themselves; it was another security measure of the car’s.
I don’t like cars that are smarter than I am. Give me a bicycle any day over a super-smart car.
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