As I mentioned before I travel quite a bit, which means leaving my car at the airport in long term parking. Abunch. It’s actually much safer there because for some reason, people like to try and steal my car. Sometimes successfully out of my own driveway, but more on that later. The reason I mention this is that my car is not some great prize. I love it, but frankly most people think it’s a big piece of shit. It’s a 1994 Honda del Sol. I bought it about 5 years ago off of Craig’s List. The car was cheap. It came with no manual, a short in the aftermarket radio and one single key with a key fob that did nothing. I asked about this when I purchased it and the response I got was “Dunno. Guess there was an alarm, but it don’t do nuthin’ now.” I just left the fob on the ring. Fair enough, off I drove, useless fob and all.
Fast forward 5 years – FIVE - and here I am at McCarran Airport in Vegas. I just had a whirlwind of a trip to Phoenix/Tucson/Phoenix that included piles of invoices, meetings, billboards being torn down, one old friend, a mysterious bag, a hooker, 240 miles of driving and a Waffle House. Again, another story. Regardless, I was wiped out. I landed, threw my backpack over my shoulder and with the iPod still blaring, waltzed to the long term parking. It was a Saturday around 9am and in another freakish coincidence, raining in Las Vegas.
I found my car among the masses, dug out my keys and opened my trunk and heaved my bulging backpack into the abyss of crap (see chicken story). Mind you, iPod is still on, and loud. It’s a good thing too, because some idiot’s car alarm is just wailing away. I open the car door, plop down, insert key, turn. Nothing. Wonderful. Dead battery. Did I leave my lights on? No. I get out of the car.
WHEEWWHEEWWHEEWWHEEWWHEEW……Damn that is loud. So I figure I need a jump, and this not being my first encounter with a dead battery at the airport I lock up my bag and decide to head over to the “Emergency Phone” which, by the way, if there ever actually were an emergency, we’d all be fucked. It is at that point I turn off the iPod and get the full effect of the idiot’s guilty car alarm. Where the hell is it coming from and why won’t it stop? And then I see it. Flashing parking lights. On my car. Ok wait, I have no alarm. Never have. Not even a hint of an alarm. What the hell is this? It stops. I am now baffled. I gingerly walk back over to the car like there’s a field of land mines surrounding it. Tippy toes. I open the driver’s side door….. WHEWWHEW WHEWHEWWHEW WHEW WHEW lights flashing all hell breaks loose again. Now I get a look around and realize travelers have been glaring at me for 10 minutes as they retrieve their vehicles because as it turns out, I’m the idiot with the car alarm. This does not answer the issue of well, I DON’T HAVE AN ALARM. Never ever. This car has been smashed into, jacked with a slim Jim and once (just since I’ve owned it) stolen. Out of my own driveway. They shimmied the window, shoved a screwdriver in the ignition and stole it t around 4:30 in the morning. No alarm. It was found after being picked of parts, including the roof and seats - not one peep out of an alarm.
So, since the alarm made a comeback, I tried the mystery key fob. Nope. Nothing. It will not turn off.
WeeeeeHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEW……
So ladies, what is the first thing a married lady does when in a pickle? Call the husband. My husband is a no-nonsense kind of guy, that’s why I married him. But in this particular instance, a little sympathy might have been in order. I drove at 4am from Tucson to Phoenix, returned the car, hopped a plane schlepped bags out to my car for a drive home in the rain only to be confronted by the loudest most obnoxious car alarm ever and I can’t turn it off. What does he say to me? “Well, what do you want ME to do?” I hung up on him. There was no help to be had there. Not that I could hear him anyway… WHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEW…………..back I trek to the emergency phone. “Hullo ? Yes, I’m on level four. LEVEL FOUR IN A YELLOW HONDA”. I scream. “YELL-OW HONDA. YES IT’S AN ALARM. YES I NEED ASSISTANCE…” and so it went on, And on. Me hollering into the funkified emergency phone in the parking garage. I walk back to the car. It has stopped. I crawl in the driver’s side window head first, my huge ass sticking out the window. Legs a-kickin'... I don’t want to open the door and start the offending noise. I'm twisted under the dash looking for some sort of light, switch, lever, something. Nada.
Finally, “emergency” Assistance arrives via Gomer in a pickup. So start the questions…Battery? Not exactly. I explain that a mystery surprise car alarm has revealed itself and will not turn off. He looks at me like I have two heads. No really, I explain, there is no alarm on this car. So what does he do? Opens the driver door………….. WHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEWHEW……. The genius then proceeds to do what I have already attempted. Looks around for a switch, kill switch, something. Of course there is nothing. So he calls Gomer number 2 over and he gets on the radio to Gomer number three on the security bike and before you know it, I have an impromptu imbecile convention in front of my still shrieking, flashing Honda. After all this, four mechanics, two sets of jumper cables and a now an hour of “Yes, I tried that” I finally send all of the Einsteins on their merry way and do the only thing left in my arsenal. Call the Honda dealership.
Have you tried to find a maintenance guy at an auto dealership at 10:30am on a Saturday? Press two. Press three. Press zero. Thank GOD it wasn't voice activated. My side of the conversation: “Hello? Yes, YES. KELLY SHEEHAN (insert alarm whewwhewwhewhwhew) at the AIRPORT. NO AIR port. It’s a DEL SOL. Yes, the alarm that you hear. It tried that. I tried that. Yes, that too. Well gee, thanks”.
And the recommendation? Call a tow truck. No shit. Isn’t there some secret button? Nope.
It is at this point, my cell phone battery runs out., which is awesome.
Of course the only thing I can do is plug it into my finally silent car and turn the key, which of course turns on the alarm.
WHEWWHEWWHEWWHEW “HELLO EWING BROTHERS? I NEED A TOW. THE AIR PORT. AIR-PORT. IN THE GA-RAGE” WHEWWHEWWHEWWHEW….and so on.
The driver had to call me for directions. I’m sorry, could you not follow the shrieking and find the flashing yellow car? Apparently not. And guess what… I didn’t hear the phone on the call back. He couln't hear me on the return call and so on. Back and forth. Another 45 minutes and Mr. Tow guy shows up.
At this point, I learned something new. If you try and tow a car and cannot turn off the alarm, it just stays on. There is some sort of elevation trigger that sets it off. So here I am, almost four hours later, in a tow truck in the rain with my flashing yellow SCREAMING Honda all tilted up in tow. That car screamed, wailed and flashed all the way across town to the Honda dealership.
Oh, the looks I got.
We pulled in to service. “So, problem with the alarm?”
Did he REALLY just ask that? Asshole.
So, four hours, $285 and NO alarm later I drove home to my don’t-call-in –a-crisis husband. So not speaking to him.
Flash forward and do you know, I just paid $175 for a new alarm on that very car. They said they found the remnants of a very fancy-schmancy alarm system already installed, but it looked like something may have been wrong with it.
“Really?” I said. “Who knew?”.
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