Going backward — don’t try to fight it

Recently, I had a backward day. The plan was to go forward but I went the opposite way.

It started with a car. It often does. Starts with a car that doesn’t want to start. If not start, cooperate.

I had driven somewhere and then tried to lock the Jeep with the key fob. No dice. I clicked and clicked but the locks stood proud, as if a credit to their ill-tempered lot and daring me to do something about it.

Life was better without key fobs. When something goes wrong with a key fob, answers start at $195.

One hundred and ninety-five even if you know a guy, and I know a guy and we like each other, but our friendship doesn’t include a discount on a $195 key fob. He likes me but not $195 worth. The doors won’t lock. No problem. As long as the car runs. If I were to shop, I could park at Floyd’s or Smart & Final, move fast, buy whatever I was going to buy and then hightail it to the car before somebody stole everything in the car and ran down the street waving their arms and celebrating.

Either move fast or park the Jeep inside the store. Right next to the cash register. “Excuse me, I can’t lock my car so I have to keep it close by.”

I had started the day with high expectations. I had a to-do list and it ran to the bottom of the page. My resolve was firm and I was raring to go.

I wasn’t going to be stopped by a recalcitrant key fob. Locks, schmocks — I could drive to Rite Aid, pick up a new battery for the key fob and be good to go.

I inserted the key fob in the ignition and turned it to the right. Nothing. No sound. It was quieter than an afternoon in August.

The lights worked, the radio too, the dashboard lit up, but the car gave no indication it had a starter or an engine.

There was also an odd red button the size of a lizard eyeball blinking on the dash that had an ominous quality. I’d never seen the red dot before. It seemed to say, “You are done.”

On your backward days, you will see lights you have never seen, your car will behave in ways it never has and the solution, when you find one, will probably not be simple or cheap.

Maybe the car battery was dead. No problem. I was prepared. I had jumper cables.

I also had Mark Halling, a painting contractor, who was home and had a new gray truck. Mark’s truck had two batteries. Mark had also gone to Highland High with my brothers Derek and Courtney and friend Glenn.

We joined batteries. Still nothing and an hour had passed. I hadn’t crossed off anything on my list, if anything, the list had gotten longer and I was further away from the starting line.

I called Chris, the key guy, who said, “The key fob is telling the Jeep not to start because it doesn’t want to get stolen. Let me see if I have a key fob that will fit.”

Any other day, he might have had the right key fob but on a backward day, forget it. He could order it from New York. I’m surprised New York had one. I thought we might have to go to Finland.

It was hot. I was sweating. I’d worn the wrong shirt, a black long-sleeved affair. My options included continuing to sweat or go shirtless.

I had an epiphany. When you’re going backward, don’t fight it. Mainly because it doesn’t do any good. Pretend you’re a character in a short story somebody else has written.

The second key guy I called had time and the right key fob. It cost $195. That was fine. That’s how the story was written.