It was just one little mistake

(Mom says that I've already written this ???)

It’s Thursday, January 10, 2008. The time is approximately 11am when this story begins. I’m contemplating the thought of leaving my sales location on the deck of the Macadamia Farm. My spotlights are missing, which are important lighting for my display. I determine to make the run to Kaneohe, which is about 20 miles away. I cover things up and I’m off to purchase new lights.
It’s a smooth ride and soon I pull into City Mill, a local hardware store. I jump out of the car and hit the power lock button but every time I do, the knob on top of the door wont stay down. It just keeps popping back up. That’s never happened to me before. I’m in a hurry, I’ll figure it out another time. In a pronounced, frustrated way, I punch the knob down where this time it stays. I close the door and I’m inside the store.
Once inside I am quickly assisted in locating the items I need and I’m on my way back to work. I’m pleased that it took less time than I thought it would. It’s raining as I go out. I hurry to my car, searching for my keys as I’m doing so. I realize that they are not on me! A moment of truth flits across my mind. I bend over the windshield and sure enough, there they are looking so very not lost in the ignition. Did I mention its raining?
OK, I look around, in what had to be a reflex action. Did anyone see my stupidity? Does anyone ‘feel me?’ There used to be a girl who worked at the farm who said that all the time. “I feel you!” Well its raining and I am locked out of my car. “Can you feel me now!?” There’s no one around of course, so I hurry back into the store. I have trained myself to be thankful for everything, so I’m working hard at including this. I offer thanks for what I am about to experience and to learn (not as noble as that may sound). I calmly consider my options. I look for assistance by asking the cashier, “Do you have a ‘Slim Jim?’” She says that in fact they do. An assistant manager comes and gives it to me. I am very hopeful. I run to my car, apply the Slim Jim, but to no avail. I see a man about to get into his truck, “Sir!, excuse me sir, do you know how to use a Slim Jim?” “Yes I do,” he said, but when he saw that it was a Ford Taurus, he said that he probably could not get it open, especially since it was a power lock as well. I wished him a happy new year and returned the Slim Jim to the store.
I head for the nearest bus stop, which is about ten blocks away. Its an easy hike since I have been exercising every day. I catch the 55 and I’m back at the nut farm. Cozie, the manager, has made a $65 sale for me while I’ve been gone, which is just great. I put the new spotlights in place then pack things up. I must catch a bus to Kahuku (20 miles away) to get another key for the car. Sherry (an employee) loans me her car. She says it constantly needs water, Oh well. I’m on the road home and soon returning with the spare key. I get half way between Kahuku and Laie when I discover that now I have left my phone back at the house. I control myself quite well but not so much that I don’t cry out, “Why Lord? Why!?” the radiator is bone dry by the time I return Sherry’s car. I give her $20 for gas.
It is now after 4pm and to my surprise, Natalie (an artist sharing space on the deck) has been delayed and will leave for home any minute. I catch a ride with her going back through Kaneohe (20 miles the other way); I do not have to catch another bus going that way. She drops me off at City Mill.
Opening my car was not and probably never will be as delicious a thing to do as it was right then. I am very deliberate. I walk straight to the car with my key already in the grip of my fingers, held high and aimed at the keyhole long before I am anywhere near it. It slips smoothly into the slot and I turn it, half expecting it not to work, but it turns easily and I watch as the knob pops right up. I sigh audibly and exclaim, “Yes! thank you Lord!”
I slip into the seat and find to my great chagrin that the motor is still running. I did not know that all this time the motor was left running. I know. I know what you’re thinking, just don’t say it out loud. OK, OK, Go ahead. I’m laughing at myself too but not for the same reason you are. I’m laughing because the gas gage reads empty!
Am I grateful for anything? Yes, that there was enough gas to get me to a station.
It was just one tiny, little mistake.

Aloha,

Papanui the Storyteller
Aaron T Watene
Oct 30, 2009