Folks who know me will tell you that I love simple pleasures. Hell, they may just tell you I'm simple.
Usually, examples of this have to do with feeding ducks in the park, playing with my baby cousins, or just a really good conversation.
This time, I've found immense joy in the simplest of things: my frickin' keys work on my frickin' truck.
I can just hear Chris Rock saying, "That's what it's SUPPOSED to do, ya low-expectations havin' mutha..." but I'd been having trouble with those locks since I got the truck. For a while, we thought the problem was with the locks. Then we thought it was with the key.
I recently had a new key cut, from scratch (at the dealer), but that didn't work, either.
I ended up putting some damned WD-40 into the lock and letting it sit for a few minutes and VOILA!
Didn't cost me a dime. In fact, all I needed was the lil straw that goes with the can. The dude at Autozone just told me to yank one off one of their cans and take it with me. So I did.
Of course, cutting those keys ain't cheap, since they've got passive theft-deterrent technology in'em, but I needed an extra copy, anyway.
No heed this: Ol' boy at the dealership service center said that they get 2 or 3 vehicles every week that have to be towed there because the owner lost or left the key somewhere. I guess that'd be the case, if you lose ANY key, but if you make a regular copy of your key, all that'll do is let you get inside the vehicle.
The. bastard. will. not. start.
That's the last thing you want to have to worry about when you're out-of-town.
Anyway, I'm ranting (this time) because every time I use the key on those locks, I grin from ear to ear. Hell, just thinking about it makes me do the dance of joy.
Yes, I'm special like that.
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