A wooden dining room chair, four pairs of large-ish men's jeans, a shopping cart

I'm impressed with the shopping cart.  How did someone get it so far from its origins?  The closest grocery store is at least seven blocks away. 

I remember once, years ago, G---- and I had parked the car fairly far from the grocery store so we wouldn't have to mess with all the cars in the parking lot.  It turned out it was so far away that the shopping cart's security locked the wheels.  It was maddening and embarrassing all at the same time.  The wheels squealed like the magic harp in "Jack and the Beanstalk" warning the giant of her abduction.  It was not one of our finer moments.  We would not be beaten by this inanimate object, this symbol of The Man.  We wrestled with the cart, pushed it, dragged it.  We weren't stealing it; we just wanted to get our groceries to the car. 

K--- was small and in the seat near the cart's push bar.  One heave tilted the cart up and threatened to tip it.  That was our tipping point, too.  We took our daughter out and hauled her and our groceries to the car.  The cart had won.