Several days ago as I left a meeting at our church, I desperately gave
myself a personal TSA pat down. I was looking for my keys. They were not
in my pockets. A quick search in the meeting room revealed nothing.
Suddenly I realized, I must have left them in the car. Frantically, I
headed for the parking lot. My wife, Diane, has scolded me many times for
leaving the keys in the ignition. My theory is the ignition is the best
place not to lose them. Her theory is that the car will be stolen. As I
burst through the doors of the church, I came to a terrifying conclusion.
Her theory was right. The parking lot was empty.
I immediately call the police. I gave them my location, confessed that I
had left my keys in the car, and that it had been stolen. Then I made the
most difficult call of all, "Honey," I stammered. I always call her
"honey" in times like these. "I left my keys in the car, and it has been
stolen."
