A Small But Enduring Mystery: Where The Hell Are My Keys?

Posted: September 11, 2016 in Mystery, The Unknown, WTF?

Not my keys.

Have you ever had something happen to you that was so weird and unexplainable you never figured it out? Yeah, me too. What follows is a simple, yet enduring mystery of my life that, although it happened nearly 30-years ago, still bugs me to this day.

It was an otherwise uneventful day, as I’d just returned from teaching and coaching at Greenfield-McClain. I drove home to my house in Bourneville, pulled into the driveway, grabbed my backpack, and got out of the car.

About halfway between my car and my front door, I realized I didn’t have my keys. Assuming they were in the ignition, I went back to get them.


I then checked my backpack, thinking that maybe I’d dropped them in a side pocket or something.


Puzzled, I proceeded to look on the floor of the car, under the seats, on the ground around and under the car, and of course my pockets.

The keys were gone. They’d vanished.

Trust me, I looked and looked and looked. I was completely perplexed, baffled, and flummoxed. Also bewildered. It made zero sense.

Where the hell were they? Hey, I’d just driven home.

I even looked in places where I knew they weren’t, like in the house after I eventually broke in and retrieved my extra set of keys I had there. I thought maybe I’d had some sort of stroke or something and actually gone inside the house and left them there. And yes, I looked in probably a 50-foot area around my car. I even borrowed one of those metal detectors old dudes use on the beach in an attempt to find my wayward keys.


I even considered wacky explanations like these:

  • Had they fallen into a time portal and were actually on the ground, except in 1881 or something?
  • Did I drop them, only to have a squirrel or chipmunk make the heist and scamper away?
  • Did a bird see a shiny object and make the grab?

Then I had an epiphany. They had to be on the top of my car! They had to be! How could I be so dumb?

Nah. Not there either.

Needless to say I never found my keys. For years I expected the meter reader, a local kid, anybody, to come to my door, hold up my keys, and say, “Are these yours?”

No such luck.

My keys were gone. They’d disappeared into the ether and the mists of time.

And occasionally, out of the blue and 29-years later, this thought still pops into my head:

“Where the hell are my keys?”


Gimme a holler.

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