On the hill, it wasn’t moving

I had done this a few times previously. I would not turn off the car in the right order—set to Park, turn wheels, take out key. But this time, I messed up.

I came back to discover that the steering column was locked and the key wouldn’t turn. Having rarely driven a car most of my life, I panicked. I tried calmly telling myself that it was something that I could find in the manual. It said to jiggle the steering wheel and the key. I did it first gently, then a little harder. Nothing. Only panic.

I had dropped off the check for my landlord up high in the hills of upper Noe Valley/Diamond Heights. I had slept less than 4 hours the night previously and was looking forward to an evening surrounded by Thanksgiving goodies. But there I was.

Panic again.

I called Chris. With his concerned voice, I let all the pent-up panic, frustration, fears spill out. It was silly. I was embarrassed too. I was reluctant to call anyone else to help me with my disordered list of parking causing me to be in this situation. Not to mention that I was blocking a driveway. He calmly told me the next steps. Nothing. I tried again and again.

And then somehow in the next five minutes, I jiggled the car to life and my Passion Pit CD album came over the speakers. Relief. And success.

In 10 minutes, I struggled happily backing into my garage.

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