I tried to steal a car today. Admittedly it was an accident but I’m wondering if I’ve missed my calling.
I walked down to the basement car park, through the door, pushed the unlock-dovalacky for the twentieth time since entering the car park (one day a different car will respond, I know it will) and heard the clunk. I walked up, pulled the handle and nothing. Tugged again. Nothing. That’s funny, I don’t remember having tinted glass on my windows. That’s when someone walked by and asked me what was up and I had to admit I was trying to steal this car, instead of my near identical one one bay over.
And while I’m admitting my criminal past I should apologise to the resident of Mooroopna who would have left the pub one night to find their 1992 model Mitsubishi Magna open. We’d gone up home for my sister’s then boyfriend’s, now husband’s, birthday party. I drove mum and dad over to the pub, we stayed for a while and when we left it was belting down rain, serious get-the-ark-ready type stuff. We ran for the car, head down and jackets pulled up. Stupid key, it wouldn’t work just when you needed it to but eventually I got the driver’s side door open and leant across to open the passenger door. That’s funny, I don’t remember being a smoker. I think it was mum who said “I didn’t think this was your car when you started to open it”. To this day I’m positive I left that door unlocked as we ran to my car, where the key worked first time and there were no cigarettes on the dash.