Ages ago... probably around '73 or '74, we used to take a family vacation down to Treasure Island, Florida. Grandma and Grandpa in the Lincoln, and Mom, Dad and us four kids in whatever car we had that year. We stopped at a gas station in the middle of no-where, Georgia. My grandfather was wearing a light windbreaker because it had been a little chilly when we left early in the morning. It is now near noon, so he takes off the jacket and tosses it in the back seat. He watches that gas station attendant fill the car (any of you old enough to remember when that used to happen?) and goes to get back in the car, but it's locked... and the keys are in his jacket pocket. Grandma comes back from using the facilities.
Grandpa: The keys are locked in the car.
Grandma: I have a spare set of keys just in case you lock your keys in the car.
Grandpa: Where are the keys.
Grandma: In my purse.
Grandpa: Where's your purse.
Grandma: I locked it in the car because I didn't want anyone to steal it. Where is your extra set.
Grandpa: In the trunk.
So, the next car to pull into the station is a beat up Ford Fairmont wagon. My Dad explains the situation and asks the driver if he can borrow his car keys for a moment. Reluctantly, he give's my Dad his keys. The guy was quite amused when his key opened the trunk on the Lincoln. Grandpa, not so much. Not sure which ruined his day more, locking all three sets of keys in the car or that a guy with a Fairmont key could get in the Lincoln. We had a wonderful time in Florida, though!