The Jar is Adoor. (Strike that. Reverse it.)

Living in an apartment complex that provides a sheltered parking garage is one of those things that make me cry a little less every time the rent is due. The ability to walk out to one’s vehicle and not have to use an umbrella or towel is a luxury that I hope to someday afford in a house of my own. Considering most trips out to the car include the carrying of a 12-pound person who is voluntarily postponing the choice to walk in favor of this paternal shuttle service, I have to be thankful that we’re not exposed to the elements.

Another parking garage perk? You get to know your neighbors vicariously through the cars and trucks they drive. Having lived now in 4 different complexes, I’ve yet to befriend a neighbor by knocking on their door and introducing myself. And to my own credit, none of them have done it to me, either. I’m not anti-social – I’m just anti-knock. But I know who my neighbors are – through their makes, models, colors, and choice of bumper stickers.

There’s the Subaru Outback that clearly voted for George Allen in his last senatorial election. There’s the red Sentra with the license plate, “HKRBNY,” which while probably very sentimental and heartfelt in its meaning, I can only translate to be the Hooker Bunny. Let’s not forget the Ford F-250 that extends far past the painted lines and into the center of the parking avenue – I sense sadness that this guy isn’t living on some ranch in Wyoming. Oh, and Katie’s best friend – the blue and black Mini Cooper – is the ultimate choice in adjacent parkers – you could swing your doors open with reckless abandon and not come anywhere close to a inter-car collision.

But what of the Audi?

One of the more curious of parkers is a sleek new black Audi rs6. I would think that someone who drives that type of ride could afford to own property and not have to rent like the rest of us, but I guess not. As we left the apartment to go to Mass Sunday afternoon, I pondered this – but for only a brief second. After all, something else caught my attention with the luxury car in the spot next to the door.

It was wide open for the taking.

The back left door was sitting wide open.

Now, I’d think nothing of this usually, and other than the fact there was no one around, I moved on in my thoughts. After all, I leave the door open between trips of bringing groceries all the time. (Unless, of course, I bought beer. With a county cop living on our floor, I don’t want to get busted for distribution to minors. The same logic goes for cookies as well.)

When we returned from Mass, the back left door? STILL WIDE OPEN. Now because Father Catechism (he who tries to cover the entire teachings of Christianity in every homily) rambled yet again, we were away from the apartment for about an hour-forty-five, including travel time. I could have sat down in the back seat of this guy’s car and watched Sleepless in Seattle on my laptop and been completely uninterrupted. (Yeah, there’s nothing strange about a 6’4” guy sitting in the back of an open car watching a heart-warming romantic comedy, right?)

We went inside, got the baby settled, and then 20 minutes later, I’m back out the door to pick up dinner for the evening. The Audi? Still as open as Smitty’s wallet at the Borgata. So I come up with the following scenarios as to why this door has tormented me for the last 2 and a half hours.

1. I’m on Punk’d. Without my knowing, Ashton Kutcher has set up 37 hidden cameras in our parking garage to see whether or not I’ll do something to the car like a) close the door, b) take that nice looking blanket out of the back or c) bring my laptop inside and watch a Meg Ryan – Tom Hanks tear jerker. It’s no wonder Punk’d is in its final season. I’m not famous and this is a terrible prank.
2. This door is incapable of closure. Aside from making interstate driving damn near impossible, it can never fully admit when a relationship is over.
3. There’s free beer in the back, and the car belongs to the overzealous cop. Hey, you tricked me.
4. Hey, free Audi! Maybe the keys are in the ignition, the title has a blank line for “Owner,” and there’s a pen sitting on the passenger seat ready for your signature. Also, this vehicle comes equipped with power seats, a CD changer, and a extendable roof bat that swats away all the flying pigs you may encounter.
5. Hey, free Audi that will blow up the minute you turn the ignition, you know, considering you’re some highly-placed Russian politician with enemies that have access to power, money, and the code to get in the parking garage. Awesome!