REKEYING THE DELOREAN: LOCKSMITHING PAST, PRESENT, & FUTURE
Posted by Ryan Barbin, AKS on Oct 19th 2026
“Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need… roads. But we do need keys.”
The year is 2025. The locksmith trade is at a crossroads — high-tech fobs, smart locks, and programming tools have taken the driver’s seat. But to understand where we’re headed, we’ve got to gun it to 88 MPH and look back at where we came from.
So grab your flux capacitor and hop into the DeLorean with Doc Locks and his trusty sidekick Marty McFob. Together we’ll rocket through time — from the wooden locks of Ancient Egypt, to the ironwork of the Middle Ages, to the digital chips of today — all while trying to dodge that notorious troublemaker, Biff Tumbler.
Buckle up, locksmiths. It’s time to unlock history.
The Pharaoh’s First Pin
Marty McFob:
“Doc! The DeLorean won’t start — the key just spun in the cylinder!”
Doc Locks:
“Blast it, Marty! We’ve got a worn tumbler. We’ll need to rekey the ignition before we can jump again.”
Marty McFob:
“Rekey the time machine? You’re kidding, right?”
Doc Locks:
“Hand me that pin kit! Do you want to be stuck here at American Key Supply forever? The Training Blitz is over. Its time for us to go.”
Marty McFob:
“Go?…Go where?”
Doc Locks:
“Back to the Future, my boy!”
[Doc twists the tools. The flux capacitor glows brighter. The car lurches forward and vanishes in a streak of blue fire.]
Marty McFob:
“Where are we now, Doc? …And why is it a thousand degrees outside?”
[They step out into Ancient Egypt. Giant wooden locks hang on a temple door, keys the size of baseball bats carried by guards.]
Doc Locks:
“Great Scott, Marty! We’ve miscalculated our target — we’re 3,000 years in the past. But look there — the very first pin tumbler locks in history!”
Marty McFob:
“Those things? They look like somebody’s carpentry project gone wrong!”
Doc Locks:
“Crude to you, perhaps, but ingenious for their time. Wooden pins lifted by oversized keys — the very foundation of our craft.”
Marty McFob:
“So basically, the Pharaohs were the first locksmith customers?”
Doc Locks:
“Exactly! Without these, there’d be no DeLorean for us to rekey. Now come on — let’s get out of here before Biff Tumbler shows up looking for trouble.”
The Medieval Forge
Marty McFob:
“Doc, are we in some kind of… medieval junkyard? Why does everything smell like burnt horseshoes?”
Doc Locks:
“Not a junkyard, Marty — a forge! The Middle Ages, 9th century Europe. This is where blacksmiths became locksmiths. Look there — iron locks, handcrafted and ornate.”
Marty McFob:
“Whoa, check out that key! That thing looks more like a piece of jewelry than something for a door.”
Doc Locks:
“Exactly! Keys weren’t just tools, they were status symbols. Kings and nobles carried them to show off their wealth and power. Security and style.”
[Suddenly, a loud thud echoes. A lock shatters off a door. Enter Biff Tumbler, swinging a crude hammer.]
Biff Tumbler:
“Ha! Who needs fancy pins and keys when you’ve got brute force? This is how real locksmithing’s done!”
Marty McFob:
“Oh great, Doc… looks like our favorite caveman made the trip.”
Doc Locks:
“Biff Tumbler! Always choosing the wrong tool for the job. Come on, Marty, we’d better get out of here before he ruins the entire Middle Ages!”
[The DeLorean roars back to life, its tires leaving fiery trails as it vanishes into the timestream once more.]
The Renaissance Riddle
Marty McFob:
“Whoa, Doc… this place looks like a locksmith art fair. Are those locks… engraved?”
Doc Locks:
“Indeed, Marty! We’re in the Renaissance. Locksmiths weren’t just mechanics anymore — they were artists, craftsmen, inventors! Puzzle locks, trick locks, even safes with hidden gears. They built locks not only to secure, but to astonish.”
Marty McFob:
“Wait a second… you’re telling me some of these locks weren’t even for doors? They were just… for show?”
Doc Locks:
“Precisely! Some of the most ornate pieces weren’t about function — they were demonstrations of skill. Imagine a locksmith saying, ‘Look what I can build!’ and nobles would pay handsomely just to own it.”
[From across the square, Biff Tumbler stomps up, holding a glittering puzzle lock.]
Biff Tumbler:
“Ha! Look at this shiny thing! Bet I can open it faster than you two dweebs.”
Marty McFob:
“Uh, Doc… I think he’s about to embarrass himself.”
[Biff twists, tugs, bangs the puzzle lock on the table — nothing happens. He growls and shakes it harder. Finally, the lock snaps shut tighter on his hand.]
Biff Tumbler:
“OW! Hey! Get this thing off me!”
Doc Locks:
“Great Scott, Marty! That’s a self-locking puzzle piece — designed to trap the impatient! A perfect example of Renaissance ingenuity.”
Marty McFob:
“So… basically, Biff just became part of the exhibit?”
Doc Locks:
“Exactly! Now let’s get out of here before he drags us back to the Dark Ages!”
[The DeLorean’s doors slam shut, the engine roars, and flames streak across the courtyard as they disappear into the next jump.]
The Industrial Keyvolution
Marty McFob:
“Whoa, Doc… what happened to the fancy art show? Now it’s all smoke, soot, and… wait, is that a lock factory?”
Doc Locks:
“Correct, Marty! Welcome to the Industrial Revolution — the era when locksmithing went from one-of-a-kind craftsmanship to mass production. For the first time, locks and keys could be made cheaply, consistently, and available to the everyday person.”
Marty McFob:
“So you’re saying… it wasn’t just kings and nobles anymore? Even regular folks could lock their doors?”
Doc Locks:
“Precisely! And here’s the real milestone: Linus Yale Jr. and his revolutionary cylinder lock. Compact, efficient, and still the foundation for most locks today.”
[Suddenly, from behind a street cart, Biff Tumbler pops up, waving a bag of crude metal keys.]
Biff Tumbler:
“Hey! Step right up, folks! Knockoff keys — buy one, it opens everything! Don’t waste your money on that Yale guy!”
Marty McFob:
“Doc… tell me he’s not trying to scam an entire century with fake blanks.”
Doc Locks:
“Great Scott, Marty! Those aren’t master keys, they’re scrap metal! This is why the industry needed standards — to stop charlatans like Biff Tumbler.”
Marty McFob:
“Standards, huh? So this is the part where locksmithing started to look like the trade we know today.”
Doc Locks:
“Exactly! Mass production created consistency, and consistency built trust. Without it, locksmithing could never have scaled into the modern era.”
[Biff tries to jam one of his knockoff keys into a cylinder lock — it snaps in half instantly. A factory worker chases him off with a broom.]
Marty McFob:
“Guess Biff just got… keyed out of business.”
Doc Locks:
“Ha! Nicely said, Marty. Now hold on tight — the future is calling!”
[The DeLorean’s tires squeal as it rockets out of the smog and into the timestream once again.]
The Locksmiths of Tomorrow
Marty McFob:
“Doc… tell me I’m dreaming. Those cars don’t even have keyholes!”
Doc Locks:
“Not a dream, Marty — the year is 2085! The locksmith’s future. No metal keys, no cylinders — security integrated into biometrics, AI, and cloud systems.”
Marty McFob:
“Wait, wait, wait. If there’s no keys… then what happens to locksmiths? Do we even exist?”
Doc Locks:
“Great Scott, of course we do! Locksmiths evolve, Marty. Today it’s fobs and chips… tomorrow it’s neural access resets, encrypted DNA locks, even quantum key systems. Wherever there’s security, there’ll be someone to unlock it.”
[A loud crash echoes. Biff Tumbler staggers out of a glowing hover-truck, holding up a rusty Slim Jim.]
Biff Tumbler:
“Ha! Told ya this thing’ll work eventually!”
[He stabs the Slim Jim at a hover-car. Instantly, a holographic defense drone zaps it out of his hand. Biff howls, covered in sparks.]
Marty McFob:
“Doc… the future just roasted Biff.”
Doc Locks:
“Serves him right, Marty! Locksmithing may change, but bad ideas stay the same.”
Marty McFob:
“So… Pharaohs, kings, factories, fobs, and now brain scans? Guess locksmithing really does have no limits.”
Doc Locks:
“Exactly, Marty. From past to present to future… the locksmith will always be the one holding the key.”
[The DeLorean lifts off the glowing street and vanishes into the sky, leaving behind fiery trails that fade into the stars.]
--Ryan Barbin, AKS
