Thursday, December 15, 2011

I Just Got Arrested!

Last time I left town I got discombobulated and was running late and, worried I would miss my flight, drove my car to the airport.

I almost missed the flight anyway, since all the parking lots were full and I had to go find an off-site lot.

Since I was going to be away for several weeks I called my friend Rena, who watches my house whenever I'm away.

Rena, in Blue, at Caribbean Festival on the Lake
The Miata
 "I have good news and bad news," I said. "The good news is I made it safely to New York."

"Okay... And the bad news is..."

"Help! I left my car at a we-rob-you lot at the airport and it's ticking up twelve dollars a day. I'm gonna have to mortgage my house to get it out. Do you think your son Mark would be willing to go get it out of hock and bring it home?"

"Sure," she said."

"I new you would say sure," I said. "Thank you so much."

The problem was that while Rena had my house keys she didn't have a key to the car. Now was the parking ticket in my car. I had brought it with me so I would know where I had left it.

"Just overnight the cards and the key," she said. "My boys are off work tomorrow and can pick it up."

I checked on overnight rates and called her back. "How about if I send you scans of the tickets and tell you how to locate the spare key in my house," I said.

"Sure," she said.

"I knew you souild say sure," I said. Thank you so such."

I scanned the parking ticket and e-mailed the images and instructions to Rena.

"Didn't get them," she said.

I reduced the size of the images by 50% and sent them again.

"Got them!" she said.

That night Rena called me from my house and I stepped her through things.

"First, go to the safe I told you about," I said.

"I'm there," she said. I told her the combination and she got it open without problem.

"The keys are tagged," I said. Lookfor the one that says Key Box.

She couldn't find it.

"I have a Honda key and a key that says File Cabinet and keys to your gun safe," she said. "I don't see one that says Key Box."

"Uh-oh," I said.

She tried all the keys she had found, but none worked. It wasn't easy for her because I'm a good six inches taller than she is; she had to get a stool and sit on my washing machine to reach the locked key box.

"Nope," she said. "None of them work."

"It's okay," I said. "I have a plan B."

"I knew you would," she said.

"If you open the door under the stairs you'll find a big D-Cell Maglite flashlight attached to clips," I said.

"Got it!" she said.

"Now go outside, and make sure the door doesn't lock behind you," I said.

"I'm outside in the dark," she said.

"That's the reason for the flashlight," I said. "Now go look along the side of the house, under the kitchen window. You'll find a titanium key safe."

"Found it," she said. "I'm having to stand on a rock to reach it."

I gave her the combination. She opened it, got the keys inside, went back to the laundryroom, and once against set on the dryer. It's open," she said.

"The car key is long with a round head," I said. "The tag will say Miata."

"What's this one?" she asked. "There's a big bunch of keys that say Ruger."

"Those are from free fun locks I got at city hall," I said.

She had a good poking through the keys. Finally, "I found it!"

"Does it say Miata?"

"Yes."

"You found it," I said.

Rena relocked the key box, returned the other keys to the safe and closed and locked it, put the flashlight back in its clip, and went outside and put the key safe back together.

"Thank you so much," I said.

"We'll go get the car tonight," she said, and hung up.

"What was that about," my girlfriend asked. I told her.

"That was so intense I had to leave the room," I said.

Just then the phone rang. It was Rena.

"I've been arrested!" she said.

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