Hitting the road early, I stopped by McDonald’s near Duke Street and Quaker Lane on my way to the out-of-town wedding of a friend. I picked up my order at the drive-through window and pulled into a parking spot to eat before being on my way.
I preferred the silence of my car over the clamor of the dining area inside. It was quiet and peaceful with no screaming kids.
“Mommy!” a kid screamed. It was a little girl. She and two older kids stood next to an old car parked a few spaces away.
“Mommy!” she screamed again. Panic in her voice this time.
All three looked around but never moved from their spots.
Puzzled, I stopped eating and tried to understand.
That’s when Mommy appeared from a strip of trees across Wheeler Avenue, a baby on her hip and a long thin stick in her hand.
“Where’s Daddy?” the little girl screamed to Mommy, clearly upset by their predicament.
Daddy appeared from the same trees holding a toddler’s hand. He also carried a long thin stick.
As Daddy used the stick to fumble around the edge of the car window, I realized they were locked out of their car.
Mommy and kids stood by while Daddy tried with first one long stick then the other. No luck. The first stick was too thick and the second broke just as he seemed on the verge of success.
Maybe they need a coat hanger.
I popped my trunk. It only took seconds to go into my luggage and grab a wire coat hanger. I heard an odd rattle, but in a hurry I paid no attention and shut the trunk. Daddy’s eyes lit up as I approached with the hanger. Mommy herded the kids aside so he could try again.
The upset little girl was crying now. Mommy had her hands full with the other four, so I squatted down beside the quietly sobbing girl.
“Don’t worry, it will be OK,” I said, patting her arm.
Her Daddy, grunting, contorted himself during several attempts to wedge the coat hanger into the window. Pop!
“And there you go!” I said to the little girl when the lock popped.
Mommy and Daddy thanked me profusely as they packed the kids back into the old car. Daddy joked, saying worst of all, his coffee was now cold. I waved as they drove off. Bang! Bang! Their old car backfired twice, maybe in celebration.
Heading back to my own car, I reached into my pocket for the keys.
They weren’t in my pocket.
They were in the trunk.
That was the odd rattle I heard as I searched for a hanger. I could pop the trunk from inside the car. Simple enough.
No. The car was locked.
It was still early and no one was around.
Unsure of how long it would now take to be on my way to the wedding, I leaned against the door and shook my head.
Bang! Bang! Around the corner of the McDonald’s came the old car.
As it turned out, Daddy couldn’t tolerate cold coffee, so he had circled back for a fresh cup.
By the look on his face, I could tell he knew what had happened. He pulled beside my car, coat hanger in hand, and set to work.
He struggled a bit. My car gave him more trouble. He bent the coat hanger several ways, trying each new bend to see if it was the right angle. His family watched intently, but everyone stayed in the car.
Everyone, that is, except the little girl who had been so upset. I looked down to see what was tugging at my shirt.
“It will be OK,” she said, patting my arm.
I smiled at her but wasn’t so sure. Daddy seemed to struggle with the coat hanger and had worked up a slight sweat. I expected him to give up, but he kept at it. I heard him grunt.
I resigned myself to making some calls to a locksmith and likely being late to the wedding festivities. My hope was fading, but the little girl stood confidently beside me patting my arm.
Daddy grunted again.
Pop!
“And there you go!” the little girl said as she skipped back to their car.
