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Locked in Car, Woman calls 911
Yes, I realize you could all go read Drudge on your own, un-aided & un-abetted by me.
Is there any good reason why I've posted two Drudge scoops in a row?
None that I can see. Apparently I feel the need to share.
The recording of the woman locked in her car is a classic: she has failed to break set.* Everyone fails to break set all of the time, but this gal had the bad luck to fail so spectacularly she had to call 911.
I think I'll go re-read Dan Willingham on flexible and inflexible knowledge and thank the stars it's not me on that tape.
* Not sure "break set" is still what it's called; I learned the terms "cognitive set" & "break set" in college.
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I've got one of those cars that doesn't require you to insert a key into the ignition. As long as the key is in your pocket you can turn a little thingy on the steering column that looks like where a key would go.
One day I got in the car after a short stop for lunch and I couldn't turn the little thingy. My pea brain locked on to the #$$%# electronics being broken. I tried everything with that electronic key. I took it outside the car. I opened and closed locks to check it out. I took out a little manual intervention thing from the key and that didn't work.
Finally in desperation I called my car dealer. He says, "Are you parked on a hill?". Check!. "Is your steering wheel turned?" Check! "Try turning the wheel slightly to take the pressure off of the steering column lock." Duh!
This, of course, is something I've done dozens of times in my previous Flintstones type cars but I never thought my Jetsons car could be so primitive.
I drove away, secure in the knowledge that my dealer doesn't have caller ID. Does he?
I love it!
I once, IN COLLEGE, was chatting with a friend while trying to make my bed, which was almost impossible to do because the bed was lodged tight against the wall & I had to keep poking in the blankets between the bed and the wall, then trying to straight out the wrinkles, etc., etc.
I noticed my friend giving my funny looks but was so preoccupied with the conversation and the damn bed that I didn't ask her what she was thinking.
Finally she interrupted the conversation and said, "Why don't you pull the bed out from the wall?"
I've really never recovered from that moment.
The bed was there, in its spot, jammed against the wall.
That was the bed's home.
Simply didn't cross my mind I could pull the bed out from the wall, make it up, and then move it back to the wall.
I guess that must have happened....because on the farm my sister and I shared a tiny little closet of a bedroom and I couldn't pull my bed out from the wall there because it was blocked by my sister's bed.
Or something.
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