Rusty to the Rescue

My other half saw something he wanted to get in the Harbor Freight catalog that arrived yesterday.  He figured he’d go down and run his errand before heading to the office.  Fine, except that 45 minute later, I got a call saying he’d locked his key in the truck.  Great.  He didn’t want to call the cops to see if they could slim jim it open for him.  I had to find his spare key, hop in my car and drive down there to deliver it.  The damn GPS sent me on a circuitous route that probably added 20 miles to the trip.  Oddly enough, the easiest part of the way down was that 17 mile stretch of I-95 it directed me to use.  It took me 75 minute to get there, and then I had to call him to say that I was probably within spitting distance of him, but was lost in a maze of shopping centers.  Fortunately, I was only a block away.

I took a much more direct route home, but it still took me just shy of an hour, because I kept hitting every light red.  Let’s hope I never have to do that again, although if I do, I’ll know to countermand the GPS at the beginning to take the shorter route.

For that, I think he owes me dinner.  Maybe half price wings & Yuengs tomorrow at our favorite pub.

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