By Jim Hagarty
Life is hard sometimes. I could list the many ways this is true and the circumstances that prevent unending glee in a person, but the following situation is one that makes me want to sit on a dissolving raft someday out in the middle of the Atlantic.
The only way I can open the trunk of my 1997 Pontiac Sunfire is to fold the back seat down, crawl on my belly in through the opening behind the seat, bang my head seven times on the steel structure that forms the trunk lid, shine a flashlight on the lock, insert a screwdriver in a little slot and twist.
I just came back from opening my trunk and feel like a bear that just escaped from a trap.
I know, I know. A three-week old fawn in the woods has bigger problems than a stubborn trunk lid. But somehow, knowing that, only makes me want to be a three-week old fawn in the woods.
I’d put up with being chased by a coyote any time if it meant popping open my trunk was not on the day’s agenda.
