Yes, you read that right.
No keys.
I didn’t even know such things existed.
When I picked up my rental car in Fairbanks at the grand hour of 8am (i.e. I had already been awake 4 hours) the guy at the counter asked if I was familiar with keyless systems.
I automatically assumed that he meant keyless entry. You know; you push a button to get the door to unlock.
Yeah, that’s not what he was talking about.
But I stupidly nodded my barely conscious head up and down to indicate that yes, I was familiar with them.
Because I’m an idiot.
I then grabbed the keychain he handed me without a second look and walked out to where the car was supposed to be parked.
I pushed the button to open the car, sat down and put my purse in the passenger seat, closed the door, and… nothing.
There was no key.
I panicked and thought that perhaps in my zombie like state I had dropped it. But then I looked down and realized – there was no ignition either.
Holy crap! That guy actually meant this car had no keys!
I immediately felt incredibly fancy. In fact, I’m pretty sure I proclaimed "Ballin’" at one point. You know – before I realized that I had no idea how to start this thing.
You should know that when I bought my first car, I convinced my dad right then and there that we just had to go to the DMV to take my driver’s test. I had been 16 for a few months, but my dad had refused to take me to get my license. His argument was that there was no way he was going to ever let me borrow his suburban (the beast he had tried his best to teach me to drive with), making the topic moot until I had a car of my own anyway.
So… I bought a car of my own. And begged and pleaded and pushed until he agreed to let me take the test that very day.
I’m pretty sure he never thought in a million years that I was going to pass. I had been a hazard on the road driving his suburban, and we had never even practiced parallel parking once. He drew a picture for me in the DMV explaining how to do it.
There's no doubt that he just assumed I would be failing.
Except, I passed. Barely – but I still passed.
And then, there was nothing he could do about it. The poor man had been counting on the DMV to tell me I was nowhere near ready for the road, and the DMV had let him down.
Let's face it - the DMV had probably let humanity as a whole down.
That night I convinced him he should let me drive my new car with my new license to and from work. It was only 2 miles away, and he would have had to drop me off and pick me up otherwise. He wasn’t pleased with the idea of my driving alone, but again – the DMV had already ruled in my favor on this one.
All was well until I got off work that night and got into my car for the drive home. I realized then that I had no idea how to turn on the lights. Not a clue. The entire setup was different from my dad’s suburban, and I didn’t even know where to start.
I panicked. I could not call my dad and tell him this. He would flip out. Surely he would use this to determine I was nowhere near capable of venturing out on my own ever again.
I couldn’t risk the “I told you so” look on his face.
So… I drove home with no lights on.
It was only 2 miles!
The next day The Devirginator came over and showed me how to work my car.
My dad was none the wiser.
Until right this moment of course.
The point is – today I felt like that scatterbrained teenager who couldn’t figure out how to turn the headlights on.
Only today, I was a grown woman, fastly approaching 30, who didn’t know how to start the bloody car at all.
I looked at the buttons on the key ring and convinced myself that one of them had to be the magic bullet I was looking for. There was the lock button, the unlock button, and a red button.
I pushed the red button.
Alarms went off, and I cursed myself as I quickly pushed it again – wondering why in the world it was that I hadn’t realized I was pushing the panic button.
So then, I pushed the unlock button again.
Nothing.
I pushed it down and held it.
And all the windows rolled down.
Seriously. Nothing I did would make them go back up. And it may be spring in these parts, but it is still too cold in Fairbanks to be hanging out in a car with the windows rolled down.
So now, I was starting to get desperate.
Which is when I discovered the “start” button on the dashboard.
Then I just felt stupid. It had been right there in front of me the whole time! How had I missed that?
I gleefully pushed the button, and…
Nothing.
OK, that’s not true. The radio came on.
But nothing else. I still couldn’t roll the windows up. Still couldn’t get the engine to turn over. And still couldn’t pull out of park.
I pushed the button approximately 22 more times before determining that it controlled the radio.
And nothing else.
At this point, 10-15 minutes had passed since I had gotten into the car. I had a meeting I needed to be at, and I was growing desperate.
“I couldn’t figure out how to start my car” didn’t seem like an appropriate excuse for why I was late.
So, I called the number on the keychain. When a woman in Anchorage answered, I blurted it all out.
She laughed at me.
Then she said she would have to transfer me to the Fairbanks office, since that was where I had rented from.
Why she couldn’t have just told me what I needed to do, I will never know. But the end result was that I then had to explain my ineptitude to a second stranger.
She also laughed.
But then she said “Was your foot on the break when you pushed start?”
Um, yeah… nope. It definitely wasn't.
Didn’t even cross my mind.
My foot would have been on the brake if I was putting a key in the ignition, but apparently I assumed that no key meant no brake.
Turns out that wasn’t so much the case.
So, foot on the brake and finger on the start button – the car zoomed to a start.
And I was still left with the keychain that apparently does nothing but lock and unlock the door. The one that somehow conveniently plugged into a hole right next to the steering wheel.
Which is where I really have to ask – what the heck is the point of a keyless car? Because as far as I can tell, you still have to keep track of the remote. And you still have to push your foot down to start the car. And you still have to be smart enough to figure out that the start button isn't just for the radio.
I’m really not seeing any added convenience here.
Plus, I was really cold after sitting in that car for so long with the windows down.
But apparently – I'm alone in my stupidity. Because every single person I told this story to today was quick to say to me “Did you have your foot on the brake when you pushed start?”
No. No, I didn’t.
Let’s call it a blond moment.
But I still think that cars deserve keys and start buttons are overrated.
