“Oh, no,” I thought, “the trunk lid’s partly open.
My wife, Beatrice, and I had driven in my new Honda, with its electronic gadgetry, to a Latino book fair in Alexandria, Virginia. It was in a school in a so-so area, a little west of the city’s famous Olde Towne. She had left her purse in the trunk. I had just picked up our income tax return, and it were there also.
We spent, perhaps, two hours in the building looking at books and hearing authors present them. There was also food as well as music and dance performances. We were happy when we went outside, but, “Oh, no.”
I hurried to the car and lifted the trunk lid with trepidation. Miraculously, Bea’s purse and our papers were intact. Not a thing was missing.
“Maybe we didn’t close it well,” I thought, but the same thing happened again, in a restaurant in Gaithersburg. As before, Bea’s purse was in the trunk and, as before, it was untouched. “I have to take this car to the dealer,” I said, but I procrastinated.
Not long thereafter, we took friends to Great Falls National Park and decided to go for a short walk. Bea left her purse on the floor in the front seat, but the doors would not lock. I clicked to close them, and they clicked to open again. Finally, it occurred to us: Bea’s key to the car was in her purse. You can’t lock that car with a key to it inside; It won’t let you.
Too much technology is too much for me. I can’t live without it, but I have to start learning from experience a whole lot faster.