Contributed by:
Tabitha Dial, YourHub.com
Article Contributed on: 7/12/2006 1:52:16 PM
I've never had the best time with locks. My mother says that I locked myself in my own bedroom when I was about three or four. The lock was promptly-- and permanently-- removed, and I remember having a hard time with the garage door lock and sometimes the sliding glass door lock when I was young.
I had a knack for encountering other doors that I found difficult to unlock, and when I entered high school, I felt terrible apprehension about managing a combination lock.
I thought my major lock problems ended sometime after high school, until last Saturday night.
I'd been out with some of my friends from
Art from Ashes when I went to unlock my bicycle in downtown Denver. The key wouldn't go in all the way, and instead of turning 180 degrees, as it should, it turned only 90 degrees.
Remembering my history with locks, I tried it a few more times and then contemplated taking a walk around the block to clear my head and create good unlocking mojo.
After having no less than four other people try the lock (five, when you include the gentleman working at REI, where I purchased said lock and then replaced it), any walk around any block wouldn't have remedied my situation-- unless the block was in some mythical, magical land of locksmiths.
Fortunately, we were able to remove my bike from the lock's insidious grip last weekend.
This morning, I stopped by the grocery store to get some salad dressing for my lunch.
Outside the store, I had trouble with getting the lock on and willed it to secure itself around my bike.
Thankfully, the lock came off without much trouble, but now, dear readers, the key seems stuck inside the lock.
So I'm just not going to worry about it for the rest of the work day. Perhaps Smithius the Mystical Locksmith of the mythical, magical land of locksmiths, is smiling upon me, because I've kept my bike in tact and have always had a safe place to bring it-- she stayed in my Jeep last Saturday night and today she'll be at my side at work until I take her home, where she'll enjoy the view from the balcony.
Editor's Note: My colleague, Kevin Hamm, may be from the mythical, magical land of locksmiths, because he came in at the end of writing this blog, asked why my bike was here, and, as I illustrated the situation, the key came out of the lock. I really need to stop weighing my bike key down with my wallet and other keys...