9. Hammer Time

Mile: 1,442

“Click”, I turned around. “Surely not” I said in a whisper. I had just unlocked my side door, stepped out into the morning light, closed the door behind me, and I heard the sound. “No...” I grabbed the door handle not wanting to pull it because at this moment I was not positive of what I had heard. I did not want to be positive. I wanted there to remain a chance and as long as I didn’t pull the handle, there would be a chance. But at some point I would have to eliminate the doubt and test it. It pulled, and the door did not release. My van had just relocked itself. I tried the handle five or six more times not accepting that this was my fate. I walked around trying the rest of the handles. “Well Mason, you really fuddled this one up.” I said out loud. I sat down still in disbelief of what had just happened, playing it over in my mind again and again almost trying to mentally reason with my van trying to convince it that was ridiculous. How could you automatically lock back if I manually unlocked you from the inside? Why would you do that? I didn’t hit the lock button again. All I did was unlock the door, step out, and close the door, and then you decided it was a great idea to lock the door back. I mean...why?! How?!  

I knew I was in some deep...mud...with this one. I took a walk. While walking through the Brooklyn Lake Camp Site I was still trying to reason with the van. I was having a debate with it as if, if I won, it would see that it was being irrational and concede to unlocking it’s door. Alas, my mental game of debate proved that Pearl was in the wrong. She was acting irrationally and in essence, was in the wrong. I was in the right. She should still be unlocked and allow me inside where my phone, wallet, keys, keys to my locked up bikes, food, water, and current decency of survival all rested. But, she was still locked. 

“Options, ok Mason what options do you have?” I began speaking to myself to work through the situation I currently found myself in. “Ok, so, you’re in Medicine Bow-Rout National Forest where no one has service. The closest town where there would be a tow truck or locksmith of any kind would be Laramie, which is an hour away. If you went that route, you would need to walk and hitch hike all the way there, find a tow truck or locksmith and watch the smile come over their face as I tell them my car is an hour away in the mountains. I would catch a ride back with them, get my car, pay them, and be on my way. If everything worked out as planned. But, the Ford Transit Connect is a European car and has some serious oddities about it. So what’s the off chance they can’t get in? Would I still have to pay them? Would it be worth wasting a full day? Would I have to hitch hike back to Brooklyn Lake camp Ground? Yikes. A lot of unknowns. And who knows how much that would cost, $200? $300? Or, my other option would be that I could bash a window in. Yes, I would need to tape it up and get it fixed somewhere down the road which would cost what? $200? $300? But, I could have my keys in hand in 5 minutes. But also a massive hole in my vehicle not to mention glass particles all inside my car. Well, I can see I am truly in a pickle here. I’m not seeing much of a win win outcome with this one. You have seem to have worked yourself into a true pickle there senior Collar.” My thoughts went on and on about the options. Playing each one over in my head. I kept coming to the same conclusion though. It was not a good option. But I kept coming to the point where I thought it was the better of the two bad options. As MC Hammer would say, “Hammer time!”

My camping neighbor, “Doug” strolled over after I got back from my “better of the two evils” walk. “Good morning Mason, how goes it?”, he asked. “Well Doug, I’m in a little bit of a pickle.” I explained. “My keys, phone, wallet, food, and water are inside my van, I’m outside, and all six of my van doors are locked.” “Ha! Well...yeah...that’s a pickle.” He said as he came over to assess the situation with me. I showed him how there were no unlock buttons on the inside of the van that I could hit even if we could pull the corner of the door out and weasel a coat hanger in. If we could find a coat hanger. The keys were in the body of the van on a hook that were unreachable from any possible access in the van. The vent in the top of the van was a no go because then I’d have a massive hole in the roof and that didn’t even guaranty an access point to be able to reach the keys. “BreakBig a window looks like your only real option here,” he said. “Yup...” I sighed heavily with a ‘I can’t believe this’ smile on my face. I couldn’t help but laugh. It was so ridiculous. I had told myself that I would order a spare key from the factory since the key looks like it should power a space ship, remember it’s European. But that was put on the “Do Later List” and it never happened. Something so trivial could have been so easy if I had just taken the time to order the key while in Little Rock and had them send me one. But, other “To-Do’s” took precedent. Hindsight is 20/20. 

Doug brought me a hammer and some athletic tape I put over the window to minimize the explosion of glass into my van. Another camper brought over electrical tape and tool box just in case anything in there would help. I grabbed the hammer, reared back, and “WHAM!!” I smashed the window with the hammer. Nothing. I reared back again and “WHAM!!” Nothing. “WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM!!” Nothing. “GEEZ! Why won’t this thing break!?” I said grabbing a screw driver out of the tool box. Putting the point up against the glass I began to tap the back of it with the hammer a little harder with each tap until I was hitting it as hard as I felt comfortable with my hand right there. Nothing. “WOOOOOW.” I was in shock that this dang thing wasn’t in pieces yet. Doug put his phone down from recording and asked for the hammer. I gave it to him and as if he had just stepped out of batting practice for the Texas Rangers he rears back holding the hammer high and “SMMMMMMAAAAAASSHHHHH!!!!” The hammer exploded through the window like it had just been shot out with buckshot from a few feet away. “Ohh, well, I guess that’s what it takes to smash a window...I guess it just hurt my soul too much to swing that hard at my own vehicle. Thanks. I think.” I said. We took a step back and looked at the glass particles everywhere. The biggest portion had stayed together but little bits were all through the cab of the van. It was surreal. I was ready to wake up and realize it was just a sucky nightmare. But no, real freaking life it was. And now I had a massive hole in my van. A cardboard box, some thick plastic and some electrical tape later I had a window. Well, a window of sorts. Kind of. Somewhat. After a chat with Doug for the next hour or so I was on my way. Cardboard window and all. 

(Hopefully I can get “in the act” pictures from Doug at some point)