We unlock our car with a fancy key fob rather than an actual key. Just have the fob on you and stand close enough to the car and you can push a button on the door to unlock. Same goes for driving. No key needed, as long as the fancy fob is inside of the car. There is an actual key, of course. We’ve just never needed it.
A couple of weeks ago, we were about to leave home when we got a warning (LARGE FLASHING ORANGE WARNING!!) that J.’s fancy fob battery was getting low.
Have I mentioned that we live in a new country and that we have no idea where to get regular stuff here like fancy fob batteries? We thought we’d need to find a dealership for our brand of car and ask them to wave their magic bank emptying wand over our fancy fob and bring it back to life.
So, we delayed. After all, we have two fancy fobs. We also rarely drive. We live on base, our school is a block away and J’s office is right across the street from school. No need for driving most days.
We asked around and found out that there was an appropriate dealership about half an hour away. We knew we had a very busy week so we decided that Saturday would be our day to drive up there and get Fancy magically recharged. This fob being as fancy as it is, of course this process won’t be easy so we need to set aside the appropriate time to get the job done.
In the mean time, Fancy had decided that the flashing! orange! warning! was no longer needed and, lo we may not have to take a day to get it fixed after all!
Yesterday (the day before we are going to get FF fixed) was the busiest day on record since we’ve moved here. Early release at school, friends over in the afternoon and base Christmas tree lighting in the early evening. Following that, we were to pick up pizza and meet a babysitter at our house because J.’s office party was last night. We drove over to the tree lighting because it was super cold out and we didn’t want to freeze.
After we finished up, we headed to the pizza place and ordered. Our friends offered to stay until our pizza was ready and then bring it to our house so we could head out and start getting ready for the party. Coming out of the pizza place, I marveled at how well we were doing on time and how I’d have plenty of time to get gussied up for the party. (Seriously? Will I ever learn?)
Click the unlock button on the outside of our door and NOTHING. Try to manually push the button on front of Fancy Fob. After all, it just worked an hour ago to LOCK the doors. NOTHING. No problem. We pull out the secret key tucked inside of Fancy and stick in the very old fashioned lock on the door.
This is not a good time to find out that when the dealership (the one in another country) sold us this car, they forgot to actually, you know, cut the key to fit the car they were selling it with. We have a blank key. And a very Fancy Fob.
Fancy Fob feels decidedly less fancy right now.
Remember how we have another one and we live just down the street? Well stop remembering it because spare keys aren’t really considered spare when they are locked inside of the car in my purse.
So, Fancy Fob #2 is tucked safely inside of the (locked) car while Fancy Fob #1 died a slow death somewhere between singing Jingle Bells and ordering a large cheese pizza.
We walked home in the freezing cold to find our babysitter (this was her first time sitting for us…first impressions are our strong suit) standing outside of our house thinking we’ve stood her up like a bad prom date. She offers her car and J. says we’ll be fine since the party is on base, just a few blocks away.
I reminded him that I’d be wearing heels so unless he wanted to carry me those few blocks or hear me whine about my poor feet the whole time, we might want to re-think his response. You’ve never seen a man grab a set of keys so fast.
All wasn’t lost. We made it to the party with nary a second to spare and had a good story to tell our new friends.
Today, J. realized there was an actual battery compartment on the back of Fancy. Upon opening, we see that Fancy just needs a simple battery from the auto parts store five minutes away.
The moral of this story? Even half way across the world, we’re still those people.