Sometimes an angel walks in and out of your life before you know it.  One summer we took Diane’s family’s wonderful big silver Buick on a cross country tour.  Linnea was still a toddler; we had family to visit in Connecticut and friends in Boston.  We turned the pages on our AAA TripTik and headed East on Interstate Toll Road 80 across the top of Ohio.  We pulled in to one of those service plazas that make sure you stay on the toll road so they can charge you the right amount when you finally exit, and I calmly set up a near disaster.    

 I had been driving.  I opened the trunk to get into the cooler; set the keys IN the cooler while I pulled out a soda (it might have been a pop; I can’t remember what they call the stuff in Ohio), some sandwiches and veggies.  Then I closed the cooler and closed the trunk.  Oops.  Where are those keys?  The car doors were open, but the keys were locked in the trunk.  Not just in the trunk, but in the cooler in the trunk.  Argghhh. 

 We tried pushing the yellow plastic unlabeled trunk opener button, located inside the glove compartment.  Repeatedly.  One of the things I liked about my newer big Buick was that the trunk opened when you pressed the inconspicuous Trunk button, whether or not the ignition was turned on.  Unfortunately for us, that yellow button only worked in older cars if the engine was on or at least the ignition switch was in the on position; this required the key that was in the trunk.  We tried going in through the back seat – we could see the metal frame blocking our path.  We tried pulling the trunk open with our hands – it sounds dumb, but we did not have many options.  We wished we had brought an extra set of keys. 

 The service station people offered to call the State Police; “I think they have a special tool to get into car trunks.”  It was so cool, encouraging, and uplifting when the police car rolled up and the officer, wearing regulation dark sun glasses, emerged and said he has the special tool in his trunk.   He pops  open the boot (he had the key to his trunk!), reaches in, and pulls out a CLOTHES HANGER!  “Uhh, will that work on the trunk?”   “Oh,” he says, “I thought it was the door.  Sorry, I can’t help you. “ Then he just drove away.  Discouragement, disappointment, and incredulity were left behind by the confident defender of the people whose hanger was not the right tool for the job.

 Diane picked up Linnea and the sandwiches and said, “we are just going to go over under that shade tree, have a little lunch, and pray for an angel.”  I paced; I grumbled; I walked back and forth to the service station; I tried calling people.  There were no cell phones in those days; only pay phones.  Nobody was open on a Saturday. 

 I was weighing four options.  First, we could try getting a locksmith, who were all closed at this time on Saturday and the phone book had no after hour numbers to call. Second, we could contact a Buick dealership; they must have a record of what key would fit our trunk.  They weren’t open either.  Third, we could call Diane’s parents and ask them to bring their extra keys to Ohio.  They were three hours away.  Fourth, we could sit there until shops re-opened on Monday.  Our sandwiches were almost gone already. None of these options were very appealing. 

 We were just about to call the Clarks when the angel, disguised as an older gentleman, strolled by and asked what the problem was.  After a quick explanation (it does not take long to say the keys are locked in the trunk), he asked three questions: 

 “Is the car locked?” No. 

“Do you have a button inside the car to pop open the trunk?”  Yes, but it doesn’t work if the ignition is not on.

“Do you have a long piece of wire?”  Huh?

 The last question was unexpected. It turns out this angel was an engineer who knew that you can pop the trunk by shorting the circuit between the yellow button and the car battery.   The service people were happy to sell me a large coil of wire.  The angel opened the hood, cut a piece of the wire, peeled off the insulation, hooked one end to the battery and touched the other to the screw on the side of the yellow button.  POP!  What a glorious sound.

 The keys were retrieved. We thanked the angel profusely, offering sandwiches, soda, and even animal  crackers.  He declined our offer, said he was glad to help, but he needed to get back to Grand Rapids after vacation.  This is another reason why cell phones were invented – so you can take pictures of the angels that help you at turnpike rest areas.