I had just turned five and I think I was already acting up (or out). I’m not sure if this "incident" was in response (revenge) to the "geese" under my bed, or for the harness practice.
My grandmother drove a new 1955 Chevrolet, so I think it was late 1954. I remember watching very closely, what she did while driving. I also remember knowing exactly what I was doing, when I took her keys out of her purse, climbed in her car, rolled up the windows, locked the doors, put the transmission into neutral, and released the emergency brake.
The driveway was on a mild slant and the car rolled onto Walnut Street. Fortunately, it didn’t hit anything except the curb on the other side of the street. My mother and grandmother came running out of the house. Then there was a lot of screaming, threatening, and pounding on the windows from my mom. It didn’t matter what she did, I wasn’t going to unlock that door for anything. I’d spend the night in there if I had to.
My grandmother’s only reaction was a little smile.
Walnut street, although it was in the middle of a neighborhood, was fairly busy. It didn't take long for traffic to start backing up in both directions. I'm sure this added to the intensity of my mom's wild, manic freakout.
After a little while, a tow truck showed up and the driver used a tool to unlock the door. I have no memory of the repercussions for what I had done, but I’m pretty sure it was so severe that I’ve blocked it out. We moved shortly after that to the Carmelitos housing projects in North Long Beach. Maybe I wasn’t acting out at all; maybe I was already in revenge mode against my mom.
Years later my grandmother told me that she had an extra set of keys in the house, but was enjoying my mother’s freak-out so much, that she didn’t want it to end. She told me that she thought I needed to win one. My grandma Connie was a bit quirky herself, but mostly in a good way.