The Goodwill Car Thief

This is a story of an unfortunate event which occurred to me earlier this summer.

It was the day before my little brother's birthday and I was desperate for a present which would tell him exactly how I felt about him. Naturally, my first destination was the local Goodwill (you know, the one out by Wal-Mart on Washburn Way). On my way there, I called him to probe for ideas. I was very discreet.

"Do you want a blender?"
"No."
"Are you sure? They're pretty handy."
"Ya, I'm sure. Don't get me a blender."
"...I think I'm going to buy you a blender."

And with Jeff's blessing, I was off to do my shopping. I arrived in the parking lot of the fine establishment, parked my car (naturally, as I was in a lot dedicated to that sort of thing), locked it, and went inside.

I shopped vigorously for fifteen minutes or so, trying on various undergarments and headcoverings before finally admitting there was nothing there to complement my wardrobe and moved off to search for Jeff's blender. Alas, the worthy store failed me on this count, as well, offering nothing which would have suited my brother's fancy. Thoroughly depressed, I walked away from the Home Appliances and exited.

My first inkling of trepidation came as I reached my hand into my pocket to fish out my keys and it met nothing but the silky interior of my left pocket (which is where I always keep my keys. Right front is for the cell phone. Left back is for my wallet. And pencils, when they enter into the equation, accompany the keys in the left front.) Not yet conceding victory, I reached for my wallet, intending to use the spare I always kept there. But alas! I had switched wallets recently, and the key I had concealed was not a key for my Mazda pickup, but a house key.

I was worried. I was about to call my father for a ride when I realized that two years of higher education and several years of not-so-high education must have endowed me with, if nothing else, the skills to break into a '93 pickup. I immediately started pacing around the car, looking for a way in. In the interest of the continued safety of my car, I will not share the startling security inadequacies yielded by its first intense perusal. At any rate, none of these loopholes, even the glimpse of light and a Gatorade bottle through a small hole behind the battery, yielded entrance to the truck. I stood back to think.

And then I realized that Klamath Falls had been quietly supplying me with hundreds of ways to break into my own car by giving its most-outdated, least-prized and most-smelly possessions to the Goodwill for years. I turned to the now-muchly-appreciated trash trove behind me and dove in.

Ten minutes and three ill-fitting undergarments later, I returned to my truck with a set of two steak skewers. Total cost: one dollar. I lost no time in bending the tines of one skewer and shoving my arm through the 3-inch crack in the window. Five minutes and three numb fingers later, I pulled the lock up on my door and yelled for joy. I can honestly say it was one of the best moments of my life, and I look forward to doing it again. It's so rare to feel a real swell of accomplishment, to know that you've finally managed to do something which really matters in the grand scheme of things.

I had to go to Wal-Mart to get the blender.