The Key Issues

(Photo courtesy www.sydneymanlyholiday.com)

This morning I went down for a surf with Posh Lawyer and seeing as it was a south swell we headed to Queenscliff beach* (see map) which is better angled to catch waves from a southerly direction. After finishing for the morning we changed as quickly as possible and tried to make our escape from the cold beach wind as the temp was about 8 degrees. The car, however, had other things in mind. Despite many tries, curses, unlocking and relocking of various doors, pushing of buttons, swiveling of steering wheel and more cursing, it just wouldn't start. The culprit turned out to be the keys, which couldn't deactivate the anti-theft immobilizer after said keys had been immersed in the ocean. So, we set out for home on foot. By choosing QC as our beach instead of Manly it added a good ten minutes to the long walk back.

PL was kind enough to lend me his surf booties because my feet were so cold it hurt to walk. He stopped at the garage to get a mechanic, while I clown-walked all the way home through the shopping district and up the hill in the booties that were several sizes too large, my wettie, a hoodie and a tuque. I got strange stares from people in suits as I trudged up the hill, blocks away from any ocean and no surfboard in tow.

Figuring that I could grab my bike and still make down the hill to the 8:25 ferry, I hurried to get ready and out the door. As I reached my bike I noticed the lock had green residue on it, similar to the colour copper turns in the sun. Paying no mind, I shoved my key in the lock, which had been sticky the last few times I had used it, and turned. The key snapped off in hand, twisting like pulled taffy. It was now 8:15 and I had less than ten minutes to get down the hill and buy my ticket before the gates closed at 8:23. I cursed the salty sea air that had corroded my lock and the fact that I insisted on having a third piece of peanut butter toast when I should have been running for the ferry.

I made it to the wharf at 8:25, after running through a construction zone and ducking under barricades, tape and rolling barriers, attracting yells from the workers. To my surprise, the jet cat was late and I made it by an eyelash.

Lesson learned: Salt + water + air + keys = bad news bears.



*Note: Manly actually goes through three name changes as you travel up the beach; Manly, North Steyne and Queenscliff but is, in reality, the same stretch of sand.