Locked Out

Yesterday was, quite literally, freezing. I left the house with Beth, her tightly wrapped up in her parka, gloves, hat, and scarf, and headed to the car.

The Renault Megane, for those of you who don’t own one, has very stupid door handles. Rather than lift upwards like most handles, these pull the latch directly outwards from the door. This seems toleave them very prone to sticking in the cold weather.

So we got to the car and I managed with a little effort to get Beth’s (rear passenger)  door open, and get her strapped into her seat. I then move round to the driver door where there is a herculean battle to free the door from its icy prison. I win that battle, but the door retaliates by opening but refusing to close; the lock had jammed.

I start up the car, and set the heaters going to melt the windscreen. I then take my time scraping the frost from the windows, quite a lot of time since it was so thick. I was hoping that in that time the lock would heat up a little and stop trying to ruin my morning. Unfortunately, it continued to be awkward.

Now in the Megane, on the centre console, there is a button to cycle the locks. So i reach into car and hit this button a few times, with each *clunk* of the locks hoping that’ll fix things. I lean back out, throw my door over, and YAY, it closes.

And locks.


Beth waves at me through the window. An idea forms.

The Megane allows you to engage the child locks from a button on the drivers door. I don’t usually throw this until i’m settled and ready to go.

So I run round to Beth’s window where she’s smiling out at me. “Beth, I need you to take off your gloves.” She does. “Do you see the door handle ? I need you to pull it.” The next ten minutes is spent talking to Beth through the window in an effort to get her to open the door. Eventually she does.

“Beth, you’re my hero” I tell her. “What ?” she says, “Like Fireman Sam ?”