Blog

So I recently bought a new car. And by new, I mean a mid-2000s Toyota Prius. It came with exactly one key - a fob with an integrated physical key tucked inside. However, one key is not enough - what if I lose it or lock it in the car?

So Brad looked online to see if we could both order and program a second key fob. If you've nver driven a mid-2000s Prius, there is something important you should know: when you start the engine, it sounds suspiciously like a chicken is clucking under your dashboard (this is foreshadowing).

The new key fob arrived, and in this model, Toyota allows owners to program it themselves. But only if you perform a ritual known as "The Chicken Dance," which I now describe as a ceremonious interaction with the owner and vehicle's operating system.

To sync the fob with the car, Brad had to perform a highly specific sequence of actions: open and shut the door multiple times, insert and remove the keys, press the buttons in a precise order, and more, all within strict time limits.

And..... success! The new fob works perfectly. No chickens were harmed in the process.

It was a windy day in Laramie, Wyoming — no surprise there. It was late. Brad and I were hungry. We went to the local Mexican food restaurant, Chano's Village, and had a delicious meal once again.

We had enough food leftover to warrant a takeout box, and when the waitress asked me if I wanted a bag, I naively told her that no bag was necessary. She gave me a second look, but this didn’t register for me at the time.

I walked around the corner of the building, leftovers in hand, and an invisible gust of wind locked onto its target — my takeout container. It yanked it from my grasp and swirled it in a vortex.

Then I saw it. A limp item on the ground. My whole enchilada.

Only once I was safely inside the truck did I burst into laughter. Now I know why the waitress asked me if I wanted a bag.