Smile-breaks
Mis-Adventures does it again
Waking up in Clifton, Utah, I had three more days on the road. I planned to enjoy every minute of them—no more misadventures. My next stop was Richfield, Utah, only two and a half hours away, so I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before leaving that morning.
Loving the low Colorado gas prices, I stopped at the nearest Shell station to top off the tank. I pulled up to the pump, shut off the motor and got my wallet out to get cash for gas. Love that extra ten cents a gallon off for cash purchases. With two twenty dollar bills in hand, I locked the car, as I always do—to keep my purse safe—and stepped out of the car.
I put my keys in my pocket. Oops! No keys. Oh, no. You prob'ly know what's happening here. Yep! Other than two crisp twenties, there was nothing in my hands. No keys. No keys in my pocket, either. I turned back to the car, hoping that maybe. . . Nope. I'd locked it. I looked in the window and here's what I saw.
The car was locked tight. My purse was on the seat, beside my keys. And this time I didn't have my phone for its marvelous car keys rescue app. It was in the locked car with my keys, purse and credit card. Stranded. I was completely stranded, standing at a gas station in Clifton, Colorado, 850 miles from home where by the way, my spare set of keys was in the nightstand drawer, doing me no good at all.
I couldn't even call someone for help. Maybe the hotel to send a car to bring me back? I looked helplessly into the car again. What's with me? Twice! Twice I locked my keys in the car!
Feeling more than stupid, I walked over to the Stop ‘n Shop to explain my situation. I didn't know what they could do, but suddenly I remembered Triple A. That's what you get Triple A for! Feeling a tiny bit better, I walked into the Stop 'n Shop and asked the pleasant-looking guy at the counter if he would mind calling Triple A for me.
He looked confused. "What's Triple A?" Oh no. I explained and he looked up the number and called Triple A, where they couldn't find me. Membership number? Nope. It's in the car. The locked car. And then, whew! they found me. Someone would be out in forty-five minutes or sooner.
Being another special person I met on the trip, the Stop 'n Shop guy went the extra mile. He called the local police and asked if they could send someone out to unlock my car. They said sorry, that wasn't a service they performed.
I was about to install myself on a bench inside the shop when the AAA tow truck drove up. I stood and watched hopefully as this guy did that poke in the side of the door with the puffer bag on a long stick. That door was about as stubborn as I am. It took the guy almost ten tries before it yielded just enough for him to poke his unlocker thing inside the car and catch the door handle.
I'm in! Yay! I tipped him more than I should've, thanked the neat guy inside—tipped him, too—, filled the tank with cheap gas and zoomed off to Richfield, Utah.
No. I didn't lock my keys in the car again before I got home. Honest.
Arriving in Richfield—without further misadventures—I was too early to check into the hotel, so I registered at the desk and walked over to a nearby Wingers for a light lunch before I took a little drive around Richfield.
Two days to go. You're not going to believe this, but during those two days I had no more misadventures. Not a one! Guess I'll have to go on another roadtrip. . .
