Back in the ’70’s, when I was a kid, burglar alarms were not
that sophisticated. They were quite easily defeated—although, I would know
nothing about that, of course! At least nothing I’ll admit! But burglar alarms
back then had another flaw and that was, they went off without much of a
reason. This I did seem to learn about.
We lived a block away from a locksmith store and as you can
expect, the owner of the business had an alarm. One day, quite by accident, I
discovered that bumping into the picture window would set off the alarm. I
wasn’t sure though, if it was the noise or the vibration that had set it off.
Obviously, I was nowhere to be seen when the cops showed up and after checking
things out once the owner had arrived, they all went on their way.
The next day, I decided to see just what had triggered the
alarm, the noise, or the vibration. It took only a few minutes to learn it was
the vibration from the partially loose, and rattling glass. I should have known
this, I guess, since car horns or sirens had never set it off but hey, I was a
kid! Anyway, I found that if I tossed small branches at the window, the alarm
would sound. Yay!
Being a kid, a troublesome and mischievous kid, I made it a
point to set off the alarm once or twice a week—just because. It must have
driven the storeowner a little nuts to have to continually respond to these
false alarms. I’m sure the police weren’t too happy either. Thankfully, I never
got caught. Not sure what would have happened, after all, I hadn’t broken in or
anything but they might have had some sort of punishment for being a
nuisance—like tell my dad or something!
We moved from that house a few months later so my prank had
to come to an end. And although the locksmith hadn’t known who to blame, the
sudden halt to the problem coinciding with me being gone most likely wasn’t too
hard to put together. I imagine he was probably happy to see me go, as were the
police. Which was good, happy people tend to forget things!
I hadn’t thought much about it myself until a few years ago
when I was in need of a key. This was an old key that couldn’t be copied due to
its deteriorated and twisted condition—and the serial number was missing. Every
place I visited in town told me the same thing; the only one around who could
help me was the guy at the store I used to live by. People tell me I haven’t
changed that much, but I wasn’t too worried about returning, this was thirty
years later, after all. He couldn’t possibly know me all these years later,
could he? So, I paid him a visit.
When I walked in, the guy didn’t appear to recognize me and
I didn’t offer to remind him; just handed him the key and told him what I
needed. He didn’t talk much as he went to work and whatever small worries of
him suddenly remembering who I was dissipated. In a few short minutes, I had my
key. We tried it and it worked.
Then, it came time to pay. And by pay, I mean PAY. A lot. I
know the guy did what no other locksmith would even try but at nearly $40.00
for a single key, with no chip or anything, the cost was bordering on the edge
of insane. I did paid him, since I already had the key but I left wondering if
the guy’s prices were actually that outrageous or if he had recognized me after
all and I was paying for something more than a key! ~
Bruce
A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey,
Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett
Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes &
Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords. Amazon
Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
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