Pushing the right buttons


Last month when my brother came to Wisconsin for a visit, we spent the weekend driving around to admire the changing colors. On that Saturday, my brother, husband, daughter, grandchild, and I spent the day up north taking pictures, visiting a pumpkin patch, and enjoying the weather.

We went in my car, but my husband drove. My brother sat up in the front with him, and the rest of us were in the back seat. When we came home that evening, we were all tired. My husband pulled into the garage next to his car, and everyone got out except me.

When I reached in my purse, I must have hit the alarm on the key fob, setting off the horn. I started punching the alarm button, but nothing happened. So, I started punching the other buttons that have nothing to do with the alarm. Makes sense, right? While doing so, I locked the doors.

Flustered by my lack of results, all I could think of to do was to keep punching that same button again and again. (The classic definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.) My husband could see that I was punching the right one. So he thought, if it isn’t her car alarm that is bursting our eardrums, maybe it’s mine. So, he pushed the alarm button on his key fob. Do you see how well suited we are for one another?

Now, both car alarms were blaring. My husband was standing by his car pushing his button, which made his alarm go on and off. I was sitting in the back seat of my locked car doing the same, wondering why my car wouldn’t listen to me.

My brother and daughter were standing next to my car laughing and talking above the din. He said, “Do you think she will figure it out?” My daughter shook her head, “I doubt it.” Then he yelled something over to my husband who knocked on my window and yelled at me to unlock the car.

He opened the door and said, “It’s your other key fob.”

Yes, I have two key fobs. One is actually a remote starter, and the other one came with the car. I had been sitting in the back seat pushing the alarm on the remote starter. As soon as I punched the button on the right key fob, the alarm went off.

My brother and daughter said it was a lot of fun watching us. I wish I could have seen it, but I was too busy sitting in the back seat pushing buttons over and over.

Fall color in Wisconsin

The reds and oranges

Corn for the silo

My Grandchild is a Car Genius




The other day, in the car with the offspring of my offspring… (Kind reader, please step over here for a minute. Since the last offspring no longer lives at home, should we be saying “offsprung” instead? I thought so.)


The other day, in the car with the offspring of my offsprung, the small one said, “Grandma, look, there’s a Taurus.” All I could see were a bunch of those metal things on wheels that keep getting in my way.


“Over there,” the child pointed. And sure enough, after I pulled up close enough, I saw the word Taurus branded on its rump. (Did I tell you I’m from Texas?)


This small child, who cannot read yet, can point out a Taurus, a Mazda, a Supra, a Jeep Cherokee, and a Blazer. Just by looking! See what I mean about the genius part?


Once when I took my car in for some repairs, the man at the counter asked me what kind of car I drove. I thought it was a trick question. I do not follow my car to work, so I am not familiar with what is written on the back of it. I said, “I think it’s a Buick,” but that didn’t sound right. Then I said, “I think it’s in the same family as the Grand Am, but it is not a Grand Am.” He looked at me strangely and said, “That’s okay, lady. I’ll go outside and look.”


I have only three questions when it comes to cars:


  1. Does this car make me look fat?
  2. Does it have a heater?
  3. Does it have an air conditioner?
  4. Does it have a radio?


Okay, that’s four questions, but the first one goes without saying, right.