The secret revealed - how to unlock the VW Tiguan

I can be accused of many things, but being a Volkswagen hater isn't one of them. After all, I've owned two GTIs and am currently on my second Passat as a family vehicle. However, I recently got so torqued-off by Volkswagen that the company probably lost me forever. 

When leaving work the other night I looked at the Auto Test Center key board and saw nothing new and interesting to take home. Then I saw the Tiguan, which I hadn't driven in three months. Driving home, I was reminded of why I always liked its nice size, good handling, and great fit and finish. (Read our VW Tiguan road test.)

The next morning I set out to take my 10-year-old to school early for band. We walked out at 7:15 a.m., and I pressed the remote to unlock the car—nothing. No blinking lights, no unlocked doors. The red LED light was still working on the key fob (meaning the battery was good) but even though I pressed until I was blue in the face, nothing happened. Then I looked for a keyhole to manually unlock the car. Nope. Nothing in sight. Getting a chill in the 32-degree fall air, I cursed the engineer/designer who decided that visible keyholes are not pretty. I decided to take my wife's Passat and get my son to school on time, resolved to deal with Tiguan later.

When I got home I called VW's roadside assistance. After a maze of button pressing I got to a live person. I explained the problem after answering a series of questions about the color of the vehicle and whether it's front- or all-wheel drive. The 12-year-old sounding girl says that "lock-out" is not covered by the roadside assistance program. I clarified that this was not a lockout situation. "I have the key in my hand," I said. "Please either tell me how to unlock the car manually or send someone here." The person on the other end of the phone repeated that this wasn't covered. "You'd have to pay $60 and have the car towed to a dealer," she said.

My anger level rose as the call continued. "You've got to be kidding me," I said. "I'm not paying a dime." I didn't have time to go to a dealer—I just wanted to get in the car and get on with my day. "I understand your frustration, Sir" she said. Growing more agitated, I said, "No you don't until you stand in front of a car that won't unlock and you are freezing and trying to get your son to school and go to work."

If I could only get to the owner's manual and see how to manually get in the car I wouldn't be in this spot. But, of course, it's in the locked car. After wasting 20 minutes on the phone with roadside assistance to no avail, I should have gotten Brooke Shields from the silly Routan ad by now.

I resorted to calling my office and asked Consumer Reports technician Mike Bloch if he knew the secret of how to get in the car. He called me back with the secret in five minutes after reading it in another VW owner's manual. He instructed me to pry off a plastic flap on the driver's door handle. I do just that, reveal a keyhole, twist a key and get in the Touareg. Whoops, Tiguan. (What's up with these VW names, guys?)

Now the Tiguan won't start because the battery is dead. Great. I'll call roadside assistance for dead battery—which ought to be covered.

After waiting about an hour an a half, a 17-year-old kid pulls into my driveway with a Scion xB and jumper cables. Toyota to the rescue. At 10:07 a.m. I was on my way to work.

Yes, it was one of those mornings.

You'd think Volkswagen's roadside assistance employees ought to know how to tell you how to manually get into the car. Also, a central locking malfunction should have never caused a roadside employee to equate it with being locked out.

Perhaps instead of Brooke Shields as a corporate shill, they should hire Richard Dean Anderson. After all, MacGyver-like skills would be handy for living with the Tiguan.

—Gabe Shenhar