For a professional engineer, I’m pretty bad with cars.
I once locked my keys in the car. Took me an hour to get my family out. And just in time too: the top was down and it was fixin’ to rain.
But seriously folks. 
For our first date, I took this woman to the San Francisco Comedy Competition in Golden Gate Park. Well, we didn’t get their early (I’m not punctual either) and we had to park about a half-mile from the show. Well, GGP has a lot of twisty streets, all alike, and I’m parked on one of them. We enjoy the show and we’re getting ready to head home. Well… I lost my car… Me and my date are walking around for a half hour trying to find it. She finally gets fed up and tells me she’ll wait by the park exit. I finally found my car and picked her up. Amazingly enough, we ended up going out for about 6 months.
Same girlfriend, same car. Now, you have to understand that I’m in my early twenties, a total hippie (long hair, always smelling of pot and patchouli) and very lax about trivial paperwork details… such as registering or titling my car… or keeping my driver’s license renewed…
We drove down to Carmel for my birthday, to hang out on the beach a while. Now Carmel is not the most liberal place in California. I think Clint Eastwood was indeed mayor at the time.
Naturally I lock my keys in the car. So here I am, a hippie in an upscale conservative town, breaking into a car at 7:00 PM with no identification and absolutely no evidence that I own the car. I tell you, I got that car open in record time. Fortune does indeed smile on fools.
Another time… I’m picking up my friend from her apartment. There’s no parking nearby, so, since I’m just going to pick her up, I decide I’ll just park in front of someone’s driveway. I leave the motor running and the blinkers flashing. Of course, I lock the car as well, but I haven’t realized this yet.
I go in, pick her up, urge her to hurry since I’m parked in the driveway. Two minutes later I come out to find my keys are locked in the car, the guy who owns the driveway is trying to get in and he’s pissed, and there’s a cop car there. Remember, this is the same unregistered, untitled car and I still don’t have a drivers license.
I think my friend is really one of the Illuminati. She’s really a knockout too; maybe that’s just it. She bats her eyes and not only do the cops not arrest me, but they use their slim-jim to open the door for me!
I swear I don’t understand how I lived to be 30.