The Samsonite Code: a short story

A few years ago I went to visit my dad and step mom in Tulsa, Ok. It was one of
those trips where I came home with more than I took, so my stepmom sent me back
with an old suitcase of hers that she no longer wanted.

I got home and
unpacked it, then put it in the attic where it has been for a few years. I have
no use for it. It’s an old style with tiny wheels. It is large and taking up too
much space, but I have a terrible time getting rid of anything that has useful
life left.

So a few weeks ago a person posted on Google groups that she
was looking for an old suitcase to take on a mission trip. She wanted one that
didn’t have to be returned if it were ruined or lost. Perfect! I responded right
away. When she got to my house I got out the suitcase, and it was then that I
realized it had a 3-digit combination lock on it. I tried all the obvious
possibilities (my dad’s area code, part of the zip, address, etc.) with no luck.
I even called them but they didn’t remember it. The woman took the suitcase
anyway, thinking perhaps she could get the lock off the suitcase.

A
couple of weeks later the suitcase was on my front porch when I got home, still
locked. I can only assume she found a different one to take. I didn’t even
bother to take it back up to the attic. It has been by the front door for a
while waiting for me to get rid of it! So today, fed up, I decided that there
were only 1000 possible combinations and how long could it possibly take to flip
through them?

Read the rest!

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