What would I do for blog posts without the notorious Welfare Escape?
There it is. Resting peacefully outside my condo door. The emphasis in that sentence is resting. As in peace. The RIP kind of peace.
About 8 PM on Friday, I returned from one of my history tours and put the truck away in the garage. Ever since my failures to lock the truck in San Miguel, I have been very conscientious about making certain I have locked it up before I head indoors.
Sometimes too conscientious. On Friday, I managed to get my security steps a bit out of order. I locked the truck -- but failed to remove the key. Worse, the key was still in accessory mode.
Not only was the key locked inside (with the nearest spare key in Melaque), but the battery (my new battery, mind you) was slipping away to the the Land of No Charges.
One of the joys of living in a new place is that everything is new. A corollary is that being in a new place means knowing next to nothing.
What I needed was a locksmith. Rather than running off looking around, I relied on one of the great resources God provides us -- friends.
I texted “Felipe Zapata.” He told me what I instinctively knew. No locksmith in town would be open at that time of night. But he told me not to worry. He would be here early Saturday morning to rescue me. Just like the cavalry.
And so he did. A locksmith showed up and had my door open within seconds. And we were on our way to a local mechanic to borrow a battery to jump my truck back into life.
By noon Saturday, I was back in operation.
So, thanks to Felipe for his kindness and assistance. Otherwise, my next series of blog posts would be about the events within walking distance.
But I do have a few of those, as well.