Picking Locks

I looked mournfully at our burgundy Ford Windstar minivan.
It glowed softly in the night air.

Trúc and I had purposely came to Anh Long's car repair shop after working hours to avoid Dallas' traffic rush hour. Anh Long was going to hide our van's keys in the glove compartment and I was suppose to bring the extra set to open up the door and bring the van home for our next-day trip to Springfield.

I need a miracle, I thought to myself.
"This is not going to be fun. We're both going to have to spend half an hour back to get the keys and half an hour to come back here again," I told Trúc.
"I'm sorry," she said graciously.

I need a miracle, I thought again.
My back pain had been bothering me the whole day and in its grip, I had forgotten the spare keys.

"Can I have the Malibu's keys?" I asked.
Trúc handed it over and I stuck it into the Windstar's lock wistfully and turned right. I felt something give.

Righty tighty.
Lefty loosy.

Ooops, wrong direction. But then, I should'nt be using the Malibu's keys. If that key gets stuck in the van's lock, we won't have a way to get home. There was only one other key on our keyring. I turned it left. Something clicked.

"It worked."
"What?"
"It worked. Our van's door unlocked!"
"What?!?" Trúc repeated.
"It's a miracle!" I exclaimed as I climbed into the minivan and found its keys.

A fluke?
That's what one of my sisters said.

Bumping locks.
That's what the lockpickguide.com said.

Am I changing careers?
No. I'll just expect more miracles from a God who always knows what we need.

Photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/