Bad Key Fob!

The other day, as I was driving home from the grocery store a message popped up on the dash:

Low battery on key fob

I am just now learning to call it a fob. Not that long ago, I was still referring to it as that fat key thingy. I am so not into technology. I still don’t understand all the little buttons running down the side of the calculator I bought in 1997.

But I digress. I pulled my car into the garage, left everything in the car (this will be important to know later), and ran inside the house to search the internet for instructions on changing a key fob battery. It looked fairly simple. And I knew Hubby would have the right size battery in his extra battery storage compartment. I wanted to practice on the spare fob so I wouldn’t mess up my own. It was simple. Push the little button, slide out the dead battery, slide in the new battery. Piece of cake.

I took the spare key fob out to my car and discovered that my car was locked. This was not supposed to happen. My purse was in the passenger seat. My key fob was in my purse. Do you know what happens when you leave a key fob with a low battery inside the vehicle? The vehicle locks itself. This must be one of those security features created by someone named Igor.

I started to panic. Then I remembered…duh…I had the spare in my hand. Close call. I almost went into a meltdown prematurely. So I clicked the unlock button on the spare. Nothing happened. Okay, now I felt justified going into panic mode. There was nothing else to do but grab a Pepsi. WITH caffeine. I had to think through this problem and sip a little. That didn’t work. Maybe gulping was called for. Then I remembered that there is a real key attached to the fob for emergencies. This was an emergency. Finding the little key was no problem. Opening the door handle as far as it would go which wasn’t far enough to fit the little key in was a problem. Eventually, I got the car unlocked. I might’ve broken that little key. I don’t know. But I was in the car. I grabbed my purse. I had my key fob with the low battery.

And nothing was working. Maybe another Pepsi would help. I was just taking that last gulp of Pepsi #2 when Hubby pulled up. I don’t know when I’ve been so glad to see someone. He analyzed the problem. He fiddled with the spare fob, clicked it, and locked my car. He clicked it again and unlocked my car. I really hate when he does that. We weren’t sure why it didn’t work for me, but I have an idea. If it involves anything electrical, mechanical, or technical, and if I touch it, it isn’t going to work. Another thing might be that Hubby stays calm and reasons things out. I go immediately into freak out mode. Why waste time?

Now my fat key fob thingy has a brand new battery. The spare fat key fob thingy has a brand new battery. I know what to do when this new battery eventually dies.

• First, remove my purse from the car if the fob is in it.

• Second, grab two Pepsis.

• Third, wait for Hubby to get home.

But there was a positive side to all this. That night I had enough caffeine in my system to vacuum the whole house, clean the oven, and wash all the windows until 4:00 a.m. I’m sorry it kept Hubby awake, but that’s what he deserved for leaving me unattended with something technical.