08-02-2021, 02:26 AM
Yes, Pdedse, number three. I speak from experience. Following one of my key-on brain farts, I called my wife to bring some jumper cables (AMA offered to tow my bike to a nearby shop, but not jump start). While I was waiting for my wife, I noticed that I was at the top of a gentle slope. I rolled the bike down the hill and bump-started it. I let it run for a while until my wife appeared, whereby I shut the bike off, kissed and hugged her for coming to my rescue, and pretended to to jump-start my bike.
This reminds me of a situation that occured a while back. My wife and I were shopping at Fashion Island, a posh Newport Beach shopping center. We don't shop there regularly, but it's by the coast, cooler than where we live, so a nice place to hang out in the summer.
While walking along the edge of the parking lot, a Singer Porsche 911 rumbled past. I watched as it inexplicably did not turn toward the "millionaire's row" valet area, but instead headed up an aisle of the regular parking lot. In an absolute Pavlovian response, I immediately drifted away from my wife and followed the car. I noticed that another man had done the exact same thing. Our wives were probably looking at each other, shrugging.
The two of us came upon the Singer, parked between two plebiean regular cars. It was staggeringly beautiful, set up like a '73 RS. While we drooled, we noticed that the window was down, and the key was in the ignition. We looked at each other and said "What should we do... we can't just leave it like this!" Should we reach in, pull the key out, and tuck it under the coco floor mat? How would he know?... Should we just stand guard next to the car? About 15 minutes later, the owner showed up. We told him that he had left the key in it.
"Yeah, I know. I do that with all of my Porsches." Crank... rumble... vroom, and off he went.
This reminds me of a situation that occured a while back. My wife and I were shopping at Fashion Island, a posh Newport Beach shopping center. We don't shop there regularly, but it's by the coast, cooler than where we live, so a nice place to hang out in the summer.
While walking along the edge of the parking lot, a Singer Porsche 911 rumbled past. I watched as it inexplicably did not turn toward the "millionaire's row" valet area, but instead headed up an aisle of the regular parking lot. In an absolute Pavlovian response, I immediately drifted away from my wife and followed the car. I noticed that another man had done the exact same thing. Our wives were probably looking at each other, shrugging.
The two of us came upon the Singer, parked between two plebiean regular cars. It was staggeringly beautiful, set up like a '73 RS. While we drooled, we noticed that the window was down, and the key was in the ignition. We looked at each other and said "What should we do... we can't just leave it like this!" Should we reach in, pull the key out, and tuck it under the coco floor mat? How would he know?... Should we just stand guard next to the car? About 15 minutes later, the owner showed up. We told him that he had left the key in it.
"Yeah, I know. I do that with all of my Porsches." Crank... rumble... vroom, and off he went.