I do dumb stuff. I don’t mean to do these dumb things, but, well, I’m just dumb sometimes. The weird part about how dumb I can be is I don’t consider myself a dumb person. I went to college. In fact, I went to a few of them. I attended one of them long enough that they eventually gave me a degree. I know what an integer is, and I’ve memorized which months have 31 days. Based on this logic, I can’t be dumb.
But here is why I am actually the poster child for dumb. What I like to do is take the keys to my car and set them inside the trunk. Bad idea? Definitely. I usually do this foolish move while I am trying to unload items out of the trunk. Inevitably, I forget that the keys were placed perilously inside the trunk, and then I close said trunk lid, locking the keys in the car forever.
Yes, it is very difficult to get inside the trunk of a car when the windows and doors are shut/locked and the keys are in the trunk. With some cars, it is actually impossible to get in, barring the use of a blow torch or a large excavator. Now for the record, I haven’t locked my keys in the trunk once. Not even twice. Nope, I have done this three times. THREE. I told you I’m dumb.
The first time I did it I was in the mountains camping with the family. I was far, far away from civilization, and we had a Ford Taurus. Yes, I know; look out, ladies, here I come in the Ford Taurus. I was trying to unload some camping gear from the trunk, set the keys in a nice safe place (the trunk of my car) so I wouldn’t lose them in the forest, and then I closed the trunk. As soon as I closed the trunk, I realized I had sealed our fate. We only had one set of keys for the car: no spares. Another dumb move.
Luckily, my wife, whom I love, was getting stuff out of the back seat, so the rear passenger door was open. Unfortunately for me, the Taurus didn’t have a trunk release button (thanks for nothing, Ford). So in order for us to get home, I had to destroy the back seat, then use a stick I found in the forest to fish the single set of keys out of the trunk through the recently damaged backseat. I was successful, and I felt like a hero, saving the family from being stuck on a deserted road on a mountain pass. Of course, nobody thinks you’re a hero when you solve an emergency that you yourself caused. Instead, I was just a happy moron bouncing around with the keys to the car like I had just struck gold. Essentially, I was as dumb as the stick.
Did I learn my lesson? Nope. A few years later, when the kids were a little older, we were leaving the grocery store. I was putting bags into the trunk of the car. So I wouldn’t lose track of my keys, I set them down inside the trunk. My daughter was in her formative years, and she was trying to be helpful to her daddy, so she helped by closing the trunk lid, thus helping lock the keys in the trunk. I wanted to yell at her: “Why did you close the trunk?” How dare she? Obviously it would have been a stupid thing to yell at a little kid who was just trying to help close a trunk that was clearly open and needed to be closed. Instead, I needed to yell at myself: “Why did you put the keys inside the trunk, you dummy?!” This car was a Hyundai. Again: Look out, ladies. The good news was the Hyundai had a trunk release in the cab of the car. The bad news was that the car was locked, and we couldn’t access the button. Not a problem if I had AAA, because they would come unlock the car for free. But at the time, I didn’t have AAA—yet another dumb move on my part. I “borrowed” my dad’s AAA membership (thanks, Dad!), and they came and unlocked my door, allowing us to open the trunk and get the keys. It was all no big deal really … just a two-hour delay with my kids standing in a parking lot staring at me like I was the dumbest person in the world because we had ice cream melting in the trunk right next to the car keys.
So did I finally figure it all out? No, of course not, because I’m super dumb. Last week, I was driving around in my Corvette. Finally, “Hello, ladies!” Anyway, I came home and began unloading some stuff from the trunk. I had a lot of stuff in my hands, so I set the key fob in a nice safe, clean place (the trunk) and then ultimately closed it—locking the key fob in the trunk forever. Dumb, dumb, dumb, triple DUMB! Doors were locked, windows were up. I didn’t have a second key fob for the car. Essentially, I turned my Corvette into a life-sized Hot Wheels car sitting in my garage, never to be driven again. On the bright side, the car is gorgeous, so I don’t mind just staring while it sits in the garage. But at the beginning of the month, when I have to make the ridiculous car payment on it, I feel pretty darn dumb paying for a car I don’t even drive. I told you I was dumb.
Some say the key to happiness is love, but Rob would be pretty happy if he could just get to the keys to his Corvette. If you enjoy Rob’s stories, check out his novel—Cadet Blues—available on Amazon.com.
This article appears in Dec 18-25, 2014.
