Ouch.

I don't carry a house key, because we changed our front door lock to a combination lock with multiple users. My middle son thinks I can tell who's coming in and when. shhh, don't tell him.

Yesterday my car key saved my hand from a burn--but I was walking, not riding. I was making my way around a drunk guy who had accosted me earlier, and I didn't see the little curb that outlines the wheelchair ramp from sidewalk to street (you know the part that should have been painted yellow?) I twisted my ankle down the curb, fell off my shoes, hit the pavement with my left hand, which happened to be holding my car keys. Then I rolled over on my back, laughing very hard. The key took the brunt of what would have been a pretty bad road rash had it not been there. The key got a pretty bad rash, too. It was embarrassing, but also very funny. Until I got mad because they didn't paint the curbs yellow. What if I were elderly?

Falling on the car keys in the jersey pocket reminds me of Wil Smith in I Am Legend, when he falls on the knife after cutting himself out of a trap. ::shudder:::

Karen