Stoyanka mayhem!

OK, now that I've calmed down, I can retell this little miss hap, that could have been far worse than it turned out. The plan this morning was a simple trip to the doctors. I've had this dry cough for the last 2 months and someone suggested a brilliant idea, "maybe you should go to the doctors?"
So 8am this morning I stepped out of the pod'ezd and into a completely different landscape. What were once roads and footpaths were now one big ice-skating rink. Cool, I thought, until taking my very first step and in doing so nearly re tearing my groin. This was impossible. People were either moving at a snails pace or ceremoniously upended on their rumps.
"So the walk to the stoyanka to pick up the car would take a bit longer. Big deal!"
Upon reaching the stoyanka, my only thought was getting in the car and getting warm. "Alarm, please work!" I prayed. In the last few months my car alarm has been acting as fickle as a gay boy from New Farm. "Please work first go!" I pushed the button and heard music to my ears, the irritating beep beep of the alarm disabling. "Great, all would be OK", I thought as I reached for the handle. Hang on, why is the alarm off but the door doesn't open ?
I pushed the disable button again, beep beep, off went the alarm but the locking nob in the car stayed down! It didn't budge! It was frozen stiff. "Oh ch#!$t!" Being a small stoyanka I had parked in numerous other commuters eager to get to work. This could turn ugly.
Running around to the other side I tried the alarm again and for a split second the locking knob on the passenger side flicked up and back down. There was my chance. With the reflexes of a BBC 400 meter champion, I hit the alarm and opened the car door in one Usain Boltishly quick maneuver. "Yeah, still got it!"
Felling rather proud of myself, I clambered into the car and started the engine. Now for the next task, cleaning the windscreen of ice while waiting for the car to heat up. A usual chore for the Russified Aussie. So, leaving the car running, music blaring and my precious manbag, (containing passport, phone, wallet and all other necessary documents just to be allowed to walk down the street in Russia) in the car, I got out and closed the door..........................
IT LOCKED AGAIN!
This was bad, correction this is Russia. I hate to sound so pessimistic but if it's bound to go pear shape, well in Russia it'll go watermelon shape. Keys in the ignition, phone and wallet on the front seat, shansong pumping out of the speakers, DOORS LOCKED AND ME STANDING OUTSIDE IN -20 DEGREE WEATHER! What could be worse? Well, I'll tell you, 10 very disgruntled bear-like Russian men staring daggers at you. I had to move the car! AND quick! Should I break the window, no that'll be a last resort. I know, ask the toothless security guard Ura, he'll know what to do. Ura proceeds then in Russian, to explain the art of breaking into a car with the use of a few matches, piece of chewing gum, string and well that's about as in depth as my Russian obscure vocab goes. No, maybe I'll have to break the window after all.
Time was running out. The chance of my car being crumpled up into a little square box that you see at the wreckers, by the 10 parked in bears, who were keen to get to work or eat their next child, was very likely. Therefore I rushed home in the vain hope that Nastya would know what to do.
Well she did. I never knew about the spare key and alarm! Only a Russian would keep something like this form her husband. Maybe it's like the wife's version of a zanachka! Anyway, I don't know why it was hidden away and I don't even want to try an work out WHY? The Russian psyche is too complex to even try and scratch the surface. Just accept that in it's weird and wonderful way it actually works.
And the car door eventually opened. Urhaa!!!