A certain unnamed guidebook writer (OK, it was me) locked my keys in a rental car. Far away from the nearest town, I appealed to locals of the small hill village for help. I figured the resourceful country folk would know how to pop the locks on an economy car.
“Impossible.” The favorite first word of Italians when you ask them to do anything outside of the rules. “You must call the rental company,” said one man, pointing to the brochure sitting on the dashboard. No one would touch the car and risk the wrath of Rental Corporation.
How about calling a local service station? “No, they will do nothing.”
I called anyway. “Impossible,” said the mechanic. “If we even scratch the car, we will be liable for all damages. Call the rental company.”
The nearest branch of the rental company told me to call the location where I picked up the car. The airport office told me to call headquarters.
I marveled at the inability of anyone to take action. I couldn’t be the first person in the history of
Italy to lock his keys in the car. What happens when locals do it?
“Oh, it is very easy, we just break in,” said the man who had first strolled over to watch me kick my car and gesture over the phone.
The Rome headquarters of the car company told the local branch to send a flatbed truck to pick up my car and bring it to their lot. Why not just send a mechanic? “Impossible,” they said, “First forms must be completed at the office, waivers signed, and only then can we look at the car and evaluate options.” I must pay for the cost of towing, the mechanic, and of course for any damages.
Four hours after my initial call, the truck arrived at the village. Once there, it couldn’t fit through the narrow streets to reach my car. After many iterations of failed turn attempts, and conflicting directions from the increasing crowd, the driver gave up.
We had reached the magical Italian moment where the impossibility of breaking the rules meets the impossibility of following the rules.
The truck driver threw his hands in the air and walked over to my car. He pulled the rubber coating away from a rear window. An old man emerged from the corner house with a long, flexible metal rod. His neighbor materialized with a screwdriver and an awl. In under a minute the car was open. No forms signed, no cash paid, no explanation given.
“See, just like I tell you, it is very easy,” said the original man.
