I’m hesitant to post this for fear my car may be burglarized. You see, I rarely lock my car doors. It’s just a thing with me. I like coming up to my car and just… getting in. No fumbling in my pocket for keys or a little gizmo to hit unlock. It’s revolutionary. Just walk up and get in. It’s my little version of Motel 6’s famous “We’ll leave the lights on for you.” I leave the car door unlocked.
Carolyn is the exact opposite. She lives in extreme fear that someone will happen by her car in a crowded parking lot, decide that her Point of Grace CD is worth stealing, open her unlocked door and abscond with the CD and perhaps her Dentyne.
There have even been occasional times that I’ve gone out to get something in her car and found it sitting locked… in our garage. It drives me crazy.
We go round and round about the car locking in our relationship, and when we’re out together, inevitably I’ll hear, “Lock it” from her as we start our trek from the car to Target’s front door.
“Lock it,” from the car to Wendy’s.
“Lock it,” from the car to church. (Cause our church folks have been desperately looking for Point of Grace CDs to steal).
The other day after another simple “Lock it” command from Carolyn, I announced suddenly:
“I’m going to start assuming that every time you say, ‘Lock it,’ that you’re really saying, ‘I love you.'”
She laughed and rolled her eyes, but you’d be surprised how that one interpretative adjustment makes a Walmart run more expectant. I don’t think Carolyn is real pleased with my new definition of “lock it,” but I’m really enjoying it.