Key to getting along with Seattle cops: Read owner’s manual

Had a lot of fun in Seattle last weekend. Got into a screaming match with a Seattle cop. Good times, good times.

Let me explain.

Four of us – my wife, Carol; my daughter, Kate; her friend Drew; and I – piled into Kate’s car and drove from Ballard to Safeco Field for a Mariners game.

Kate asked me if I wanted to drive, and I said sure. When we got to the front of Safeco Field, we hit a minor traffic jam – minor because the Mariners are something like 162 games out of first place. The crowds are modest.

Since we were stopped right near the entrance, I said, “Why don’t you guys get out here? I’ll park the car and meet you in the stadium.”

So they got out and started down the sidewalk to the entrance. The traffic cops at the corner started waving traffic through and I started rolling down Edgar Martinez Way, in search of a parking lot.

Then, suddenly the dashboard emitted an urgent alarm beep and the display screen flashed the warning, “Key Not Detected! Key Not Detected!”

Kate’s car has one of those Smart Keys. This is an electronic key that you don’t have to actually insert into the ignition. You merely have to carry the key in your pocket or purse. The car senses the presence of the electronic key.

They’re great. No more fumbling with keys.

Then I realized. The car’s key was in Kate’s purse. And there she was, strolling down the sidewalk 20 yards away, blithely unaware.

Exclamation points were flashing on the display. Then something flashed in my mind: A dim memory of something I had read. If a Smart Key was removed from the car, the car would continue a certain distance and then shut down. It was a carjacking prevention feature or something.

I panicked. How far would the car go? A mile? Ten miles? 100 yards? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t risk it.

I braked to a stop, leaned over to the passenger window and started screaming, “Kate! Kate! I need the key!”

She was strolling along, talking happily to Drew. She didn’t hear me.

“Kate! Kate!”

I was practically laid out sideways across the passenger seat, trying to get their attention.

Traffic was backing up behind me. Cars were honking. Then I heard a voice from the street side.

“Move it! Move that car!”

It was a Seattle cop on traffic duty. He was marching up from the intersection with an unpleasant look in his eye.

I resumed screaming.

“Kate! Carol! Key! I need the key!” I screeched, getting hoarse.

Carol came running up. She had no idea why I was having a fit in front of Safeco Field, but she knew I was yelling, “Key!”

So she reached in her purse and handed me her keys.

“No, not your key! Kate’s key!”

Just about then, I realized that someone had opened my driver’s side door.

This Seattle cop leaned in and screamed, “Move this car and I mean now!”

“I can’t,” I hollered back. “I don’t have the keys.”

“Are you stalled?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so, but I …”

“Then MOVE THIS CAR RIGHT NOW.”

“You don’t understand!” I screamed, losing my patience, which is not a bright thing to do with a cop. “I NEED THE KEY! It has one of those electronic keys, and SHE has the electronic key.”

He just stared incredulously at me. I was just another doofus with a lame excuse.

He repeated, “ARE YOU STALLED?”

“Not exactly, but …”

Now, he had the door all the way open and he seemed to be reaching for me. I shudder to think what his next move would have been, but at that moment, Kate threw her key in through the open passenger window. The car stopped beeping.

“We’re good now!” I said to the cop. “I can go!”

He slammed the door shut and I rolled off, as he continued to stare at me with undisguised contempt.

Later, at the game, still a little shaken, I told Kate, “I tried to explain, but it just made that cop madder. I don’t know why he was so angry.”

Except now I think I know why.

That whole carjacking prevention thing? I remembered it wrong. The next day, I checked the Smart Key instructions and realized that a keyless car will keep going until the driver turns it off. The car would have made it to a parking lot, no problem.

The cop probably knew that. So maybe this is the message he was trying to convey with that incredulous stare: “Doesn’t anybody read their owner’s manuals anymore?”