The mystery of the car key is solved, in that it’s been found. How it got there is another matter.
I explained yesterday about its loss. This afternoon, I had a phone call from the garage in Beccles where I bought the car. Yes, working on a Sunday. The woman I spoke to, whose name I didn’t catch, said that she’d had a phone call from someone whose father had picked up the key in Yagnub, saw there was a registration number on the fob and was going to phone the dealership – but the daughter said that he might take a while to get around to it, so she (very kindly) did it herself. And the woman I spoke to (enough of this, I’m calling her Lisa because Lisa is a nice name) looked up who bought it and rang me.
I’m calling daughter Sally, because that’s a nice name too. Sally said that she or her dad would drop it in when they’re next going through Beccles and Lisa will let me know, to pick it up.
I can only assume that, jumping out of the car, I’d stupidly had the key on my lap and it fell onto the gravel and then, when the removal lorry left, it got caught in the tread of the tyre. Then It fell out as they drove through the town. Ludicrous as this sounds, there seems to be no other explanation. I’m just lucky that they didn’t go on the bypass, where it wouldn’t have been found, and that kind Frank (look, I’m into nice names and it makes him a person to me) and Sally took the trouble to follow up with it.
I’m going to buy trackers for everything.
What a fantastic story. But how could a key stay affixed to a tire all that distance? it boggles the mind that then someone found it and traced it back to you!! BTW didn’t your sister have her keys go missing too.
I agree, it seems impossible! But that is the only explanation, because I certainly had driven down to the garage using that key and then got out of the car. I had to get the spare key from the house to start it again.
Yes, she dropped them between her gate and the house. Remarkably, they did finally turn up – Wince the gardener found them in a small bush where they’d fallen. In the meantime, she’d replaced the key, so now she has three. Trackers on everything. Only hope. I’m keeping quiet about this – apart from here on the open internet, of course – because we’ll get a reputation as batty old women if I tell our local friends. Internet friends already know, of course!
Because we have not got a finished house we don’t yet have final permanent homes for keys. Mr BW is driving me MAD constantly losing/misplacing/leaving keys in pockets.
I have a hook, it’s kept simple!