During my recent sojourn to St. John’s, my co-facilitator and I journeyed downtown the last night for dinner at world famous The Duke of Duckworth, where you, too, may feast on some of the best fish and chips this side of London. (Cod was Newfoundland’s greatest export before that whole offshore oil discovery.)
Departing from the restaurant around 7:45 p.m. – while the last stages of daylight loomed… and having had nothing to drink (key point!) – we walked three blocks to where I had parallel-parked our gold Chevy Cruze rental some 90 minutes earlier.
I pushed the key’s remote button to open the doors, the locks made that noise they do, and we hopped in the car. I put the key in the ignition, the engine started and I placed the car in reverse. Looking back over my shoulder as I backed up gently, I said: “Where’s your briefcase?” which Tony had left on the back seat. Then I said: “Where’s my bag?” Then I turned off the key, opened the door and jumped out. It took him about five seconds to do the same.
“Wrong car!” I said quite loudly. We looked at each other… and noticed the vehicle right behind us was also a gold Chevy Cruze. I pushed the remote door lock twice. Both cars made that beeping sound and their headlights flashed. I pushed unlock and we got in the trailing car. Our stuff was on the back seat.
I have no idea about the randomness of keys and remote control codes. I’ve rented a bunch of cars and also have the auto-opener on my Honda. That had never happened before. About five minutes after we drove away – and following a lot of, “Do you believe that?” comments – I looked at Tony and said: “You think the owner of that other car was in the pub right there? If so, we’re lucky he didn’t see us.”
