How A Bunch Of Dumb Mistakes Nearly Killed Me And A $111,000 Pickup Truck

How hard is it to pick up an imported car from a port? This is a question I’ve only asked myself once in my life because the answer is it’s so easy I’ve picked up cars all by myself twice rather than hiring someone to do it. Yet, somehow, I just turned a simple road trip for a port pickup into something so disastrous that it could have been torn out of a National Lampoon script. In the span of just twelve hours, I lost the key to a $111,000 truck, got another truck stuck while saving the first truck, and endured the most harrowing ordeal I’ve ever experienced on the road.

What you’re about to read is a tale of woe and stupidity. Trust me, I don’t need to be told that what I did was dumb. Not only did I live through this, but I experienced nightmares about it afterwards. However, maybe you’ll be a bit entertained by the chaos and hopefully never make the mistake I did.

This drive was supposed to be my dream road trip of this summer. I was driving out to the port to pick up a cool little car. My wife was going to get some much-needed time away from the courtroom. Ford even loaned me one of its coolest trucks, the new 2025 F-350 Super Duty Platinum Plus in a dual rear wheel configuration with a 6.7-liter Power Stroke High Output diesel engine. I actually asked Ford for the biggest truck in the press fleet. In part because I wanted to try an F-450, and in part because of the visual of the biggest truck hauling one of the smallest cars.

(Full Disclosure: Ford loaned me a 2025 F-350 Super Duty Platinum Plus for a little over a week to haul home my new-to-me 1997 Honda Life. Ford took such great care of me during this whole ordeal, and I cannot find the proper words to thank those lovely people enough.)

Sadly, the new F-450 on the press fleet wasn’t ready to hit the road yet. That didn’t matter because the truck that I did get was phenomenal. This 2025 Ford F-350 Super Duty DRW is now my second favorite new truck, only behind another Ford product, the F-150 FP700. If you gave me the choice of a new Mercedes-Benz or this truck, I would choose the truck in a heartbeat. But that is a story for my road trip review.

Instead, this is how I nearly ruined everything in the 11th hour.

A Big Truck With Long Legs

The drive out to Baltimore to pick up my 1997 Honda Life was supposed to be simple enough. I did this drive in the past to pick up my 1989 Suzuki Every van, and this time I figured I was going to avoid the mistakes of last time. This time, I was going to leave home bright and early so I didn’t have to drive through darkness for the majority of the route like I did last time.

This was a great choice as I got to witness just how beautiful this nation is. If you think this country is not much to look at, just hit the road towards any random direction, drive at least a few hundred miles, and you will not be disappointed.

For me, the scenery started changing on the Ohio Turnpike as the flatlands of the Midwest began turning into rolling hills. Those hills then morphed into Appalachia as I drove through Pennsylvania. I was captivated by the East Coast, and fascinated that I missed all of this last time just by driving at the wrong time of day.

Sadly, I never really stopped to take it all in. See, the F-350 Super Duty has a 48-gallon fuel tank, and the truck was getting 17.2 mpg with the empty U-Haul Auto Transport on the back. The Port of Baltimore was 773 miles from home and according to the truck’s fuel range guess-o-meter, I was going to make it to Baltimore was 30 miles of range to spare.

Making it to Baltimore on nothing more than stops for food breaks sounded exciting to me, and it sort of became a game to drive the huge truck at a relaxed speed to see my fuel economy get better. I stopped only three times on my way to Baltimore. I stopped on the Indiana Toll Road for lunch and at one more place in rural Maryland for fuel. I figured I should get fuel while it was cheap because it wasn’t going to be cheap near the port.

It was the third stop that did me in. Sheryl and my birds weren’t able to join me because of a scheduling conflict. So, Sheryl watched me make regular trip reports. Her suggestion was that I should eat dinner at a place called Ledo Pizza, a Maryland chain known for its unique sauce and rectangular shapes.

Based on my time of arrival, my best shot at hitting a Ledo Pizza before they closed for the night was to stop at the one in Hagerstown, Maryland. Besides, some huge evening construction work on I-70 East sent me on a detour through the city, anyway.

I stopped by the Ledo Pizza in Hagerstown, ordered my pie, and proceeded to be amazed by my wife’s dinner suggestion. Sheryl wasn’t lying. Both the sauce and the cheese were something I hadn’t tasted before here in the Midwest, and the crust was perfectly thin and just the right amount of crunchy. I highly recommend a visit to a Ledo Pizza if you’re ever out there.

The Dumb Decision That Changed Everything

Anyway, I do not eat in press vehicles, so I planned on dropping the tailgate and eating there. Accompanying me with the box of pizza was the truck’s key fob. I started thinking, and I decided to put the key somewhere safe. I’m not sure why, but I had this fear of leaving the key in the truck, the truck locking itself, and I’d end up stranded some eleven hours away from home with a fancy truck that’s not mine.

Logically, the solution to this worry would have been to open a window, or put on my jean jacket and put the key in the jacket, or take the key to the tailgate where I was eating, or put the key in my purse. Honestly, there were probably a million different things I could have done better. Maybe it was the 11 hours of straight driving, or maybe it was a brief moment of profound stupidity. I’m not sure what went through my head, but I plopped the key down on the cowl just in front of the windshield.

How stupid was this? Had I just walked literally two more steps, I could have put the key into the center console, where it would have been safe. But I didn’t do that. Instead, I enjoyed my pizza, hopped into the truck, and beat it to the I-70 East entrance that was just a mile down the road.

What Was That Noise?

As I throttled out of the cloverleaf and onto the Interstate, I heard a thump. Now, the truck does make thumping noises on its own, specifically when the electric running boards reach their closed position seconds after you get into the truck. I thought to myself, “Did the running boards just close?” But this didn’t make sense, because it wouldn’t have made sense for them to be open, anyway.

I then feared that maybe I left my purse, jacket, or phone on the outside of the truck, but nope, all of those were present. I thought that it must have been a rock kicked from the tires or something, as I rocketed past a sign stating that Baltimore was only 77 miles away. I was only an hour from my goal.

Then, it hit me. The truck’s key wasn’t next to my phone in the center console, where it had always resided for the whole trip. Then, it hit me again. I left the key on the cowling! Holy crap! My brain immediately went into panic mode. First, I thought that I’d just take the first exit, double back to where I heard the thump, and then use the truck’s super bright LED headlights to find the key. Sure, I’d have to drive dangerously slow and hold up traffic in a lane, but the F-350’s headlights basically turn night into daylight. I figured I wouldn’t block traffic for that long.

Then, I realized that the nearest exit was pretty far out. I then began to fear that the further I drove away from the key, the more unlikely it would be that I’d ever find it again. I was also a bit weirded out that the truck itself didn’t give me a warning or anything about the missing key. Based on the lack of a warning from the truck, I began to think that, wait, maybe the key was still on the truck, or maybe it was on the tonneau cover, or something.

The Ford Bricks Itself

I quickly, but gently, pulled off onto the shoulder, then put it into park. The moment I moved the shifter into that position, the truck finally sounded the “No Key Detected” warning and then shut itself down. Unfortunately, my hunch that the key was somewhere in or on the truck was wrong.

But what was even worse at that moment was how the truck effectively bricked itself. It locked me out of all major functions. I could not turn on accessory mode. This meant that I had no control of the windows, either. It was a cool night, so I had the sunroof in the fully open position in addition to the rear sliding window and the driver window. But no matter what I did, the truck wouldn’t let me close them. The only function the truck let me have was the ability to adjust my seat, turn on the infotainment system, and hit the hazards. Basically, I could jam out to my music and listen to the GPS bark at me to stay on I-70 for another 73 miles, but that’s it. As far as the truck was concerned, I was screwed.

Panic really set in then. Ford gave me resources to call in case of an emergency, but I knew from the start that none of them were going to be able to help me. Ford Roadside Assistance would not have the power to magically conjure a key. My press contact could reasonably be expected to have a backup key, but they were a full seven-hour drive away in Detroit – and the likelihood of them answering the phone at 10 p.m. was low, anyway. Calling the police wasn’t going to help me, either. At the very best, the only help anyone could give me was driving me to a hotel. I’d have to abandon the truck on the highway.

I made the subsequent bad decision to try to find the key. There were four major problems with that idea. One was that I had made it about a mile past the point when I heard the thump, so that’s just a huge search area to cover. The second issue was that it was pitch black with cloud cover. Then there was the fact that I was on a very busy Interstate corridor with semi-trucks blasting by every few seconds. Finally, the only light I had on me was my phone’s flashlight, which meant I would only have a narrow field of diffuse light.

Few Options, And I Chose The Worst One

I made the risky decision to search for the key. The key came off the truck when I was in the left lane, so I figured it would probably be on the left side, either in or near the median. I felt a little better about walking the median thanks to the guardrail that was there, but it was still outrageously dangerous. Had any one of those drivers not been paying attention, been distracted, or drunk, they would have wiped me off the planet, and no one would have known until morning. Twice, semis came pretty darned close to hitting the guardrail with me on the other side.

My search was desperate. I went perhaps five feet at a time, checking every place I could. Plants in the median caught my dress. Other flora scratched my ankles. My feet sometimes struggled as the median’s wet terrain sank under my steps. But I had to find that key.

I found a lot of things that weren’t the key. I discovered a complete animal skeleton, minus a head, and large enough to be mistaken for a small person. The bones suddenly appearing in the light of my phone was such a shock that I bolted, fight-or-flight style. I came across perhaps a half-dozen more dead animals, their fur and skin still intact. I also found a broken iPhone, two Android phone cases, a garage door opener, toys, empty cigarette cartons, and countless empty liquor bottles. There were also innumerable chunks of rubber shed from semi-truck tires. I was frequently excited by the sight of something black and fob-shaped on the ground, only to have excitement replaced by crushing disappointment when it was just another hunk of tread from one of 18 wheels.

After what felt like forever’s worth of time, I made it to and past the area where I heard the thump and did not find the key. I considered taking another walk through the median, but a construction worker saw me and flagged down the state trooper who was protecting the highway works site.

I explained everything that had happened to the state trooper, and he felt so bad for me that he didn’t even talk about how illegal it was for me to be walking the median. He just wanted to get me somewhere safe and cleaned out the front seat of his cruiser for me to ride in. He confirmed my fear, too. There was nothing he could do but take me to a hotel. So, he did that.

As we pulled up to the hotel, I asked him if he could go back to the truck and turn off the hazards so the battery wouldn’t drain. He recommended that I get an Uber to take me back to the truck, remove my valuables from the truck, and then have the Uber take me back to the hotel.

Not Giving Up Yet

Getting Uber to drop me off on an Interstate was quite difficult. The app doesn’t permit drop-offs on highways, so the app ended up choosing a random address that was technically next to the F-350. When the Uber got there, I explained the situation. I then got into a debate with the nice man behind the wheel about dropping me off into a dangerous situation and how he wasn’t able to do that. Eventually, I got through by telling him that if he got me to the Ford, he would be helping me salvage what was left of one of the worst nights of my life.

He reluctantly agreed to take me to the truck and got me there, but sped off the second I closed the door behind me. I had offered to pay him more to get me back to the hotel, but he wasn’t having it.

Once I got to the truck, I decided to try something different. I called up Ford Roadside Assistance, and a kind man tried to keep me calm even though I was freaking out and fraying at my ends. First, he walked me through an attempt to pair the truck to the FordPass app on my phone. If successful, the app might have been able to give me temporary emergency control of the truck’s ignition. At the very least, I might be able to close the windows and the sunroof.

This was unsuccessful because a previous journalist had already paired their phone to the truck. The only way to add a new phone to the truck would be to delete the previous phone, which you can do only if you have the fob on you. Next, the Ford Roadside Assistance rep attempted to call two Ford dealership service departments in Hawai’i, which were known to have some staff still around at the time he called. Unfortunately, neither dealership answered the phone.

Left without any real option, Ford Roadside then tried to get me a tow truck. I waited for perhaps an hour as the Ford Roadside guy called around. There wasn’t any wait music or anything, so most of the time I had no idea if he was even still there anymore. Hopelessness slowly crept in as I sat on the side of the highway, unable to change the situation that I had caused.

Eventually, the voice crackled back onto my phone speaker, and I could tell that the man on the phone was disappointed. Ford Roadside said that because I was in a dually truck, he couldn’t find a single tow company with the equipment to save me that night. He said the best he could do was have a tow truck dispatched out there by 8 a.m. the next morning.

Unfortunately, it was around this time that I felt a raindrop hit my head. Panic joined back in with the hopelessness as I cried out to the Ford Roadside rep that it was beginning to rain and, as we had established earlier in the call, the truck was bricked. The only advice the fella was able to give me was to fashion some sort of makeshift tarp out of the vehicle’s floor mats.

As it happened, I did bring wood boards to help load the car onto the U-Haul trailer and I also had a blanket, too. I used the boards to create a structure over the sunroof opening. Then I draped the blanket over the opening, securing it by slamming fabric into the truck’s doors. Then, I layered all of the truck’s floor mats on top. It was janky, it wasn’t weatherproof, but it was better than nothing, I guess. Then, on the advice of Ford Roadside, I closed up the truck and got out of there.

Rock Bottom

As if my night wasn’t hard enough, I couldn’t convince Uber to pick me up off the side of the highway. So, I went back into the median. I then proceeded to do my stupid search all over again, but this time with a little rain making things extra miserable. Once I reached the construction site, another Maryland state trooper found me, got me off the highway, and into the relative safety of their cruiser.

This officer saw I was at the end of my rope and tried to distract me by talking about cars. Through him, I found out that Maryland often buys the slowest cop cars out there, with some cruisers topping out at only 130 mph. The ride to the hotel turned into an impromptu ride-along as we came across a lady driving a Lexus GX on a bare wheel. Our “chase” went no faster than 28 mph, and, conveniently, she pulled off the road in front of the hotel.

By now it was 2 a.m., or about four hours after I lost the key. I was exhausted, I was depressed, and I was beaten. I thought of myself as an idiot and as a failure. All I had to do was put the key in the truck. Now, I caused one of my worst nightmares. I continued beating myself up as I struggled to fall asleep that night.

I’m not sure if there’s a moral or a lesson for me to give to you here. I mean, I learned a lesson and I learned it the hard way. I’m not sure I will ever forget that night or the asinine behavior I displayed in just a few hours. But if I can find some sort of piece of advice, it’s probably that you should never let that key fob out of your sight. Maybe put a tracker on it if you have to. But absolutely don’t put it on top of your vehicle. Also, walking the median could result in the loss of your life, so don’t do that, either.

Somehow, I wasn’t done causing myself misery yet, but that’s going to be a story for next week.

Top graphic images: Mercedes Streeter; depositphotos.com