Dude, where's my car?

Mike had a cross-country meet up in Louisville today, which meant he had to get up at the crack of dawn to catch the bus with the rest of his team at 7:30. Fred and I drove up at a more reasonable hour to watch him run and then take him shopping afterwards for a friend's birthday present.

As you might imagine, Mike was rather disgusting after having run 5 kilometers. He took off his wet shirt and sat on a towel on the ride over to Toys R Us. I suggested that when we got there, Fred and I should get out of the van and he should just change into his regular shorts real quick rather than going in to change in the restroom and then having to carry his soggy running shorts around with him.

He thought that was a good idea, so when we got there we stepped out of the van, leaving it running so that he could have the A/C and wouldn't get even sweatier changing into his dry clothes. Apparently we weren't giving him enough privacy, so he stuck his head out the door and asked, "Hey, can't you guys go stand up by the store?"

"Fine," I said, "we will meet you in the store." It never occurred to me to add, "Please turn off the car and bring the keys when you come." You can see where this is going, can't you?

Sure enough, we had all been in Toys R Us for a few minutes when Mike said to me, "Hey, did you know you didn't turn off the car when you left?"

As Fred sprinted for the parking lot with Mike hot on his heels, I stood there with my mouth hanging open, praying to whomever might be the patron saint of cars, fools, and parents that they should find the car right where we left it.

The car was indeed sitting there, so all's well that ends well. I, however, am looking forward to the day when my grandchildren do something especially boneheaded, and I can say, "Hey, did I ever tell you about when your dad left our car unlocked and running in a parking lot and went shopping?"