I was moving from Utah to Sacramento, I was about 9 hours into the drive when I decided I wanted to stop and get gas and food. I stoped in some small Nevada town pretty close to the california/nevada border. As I stepped out of my car, I patted my pockets to make sure I had my keys. I felt the lump (a wad of paper) and heard a jingle (random change) so I closed my car door. As it latched into place, I noticed my keys on the center console.
FUCK!
I walked into the gas station (it was one of those big truck stop places) and asked the lady behind the counter if she had the number for a locksmith. I didn't want to use a locksmith, because I didn't have any credit cards, only cash that needed to last me a month or so. The lady's husband happened to be stopping by to take her to lunch, he asked me to show him which car was mine. I showed him my Chevy Cavolier, he responded "Oh, I've broken into a few of those in my time". I had to buy a lockout kit ($9.99) but it only took 10 minuntes to get in and I'm sure cost a lot less than a locksmith. The guy wouldn't even let me pay for his dinner.
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This too shall pass.
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