Yesterday afternoon I was out and about taking care of a few things when my car died on me. There have been no indications of problems, no warnings, no smoke, no anything. It just died. All that happened when I turned the key was a clicking noise over and over. I didn’t leave any lights on and I had a full tank of gas. Wonderful. So I begin making calls but no one seemed to want to answer and it’s looking like I’ll be spending the rest of my life in a parking lot in front of a tanning salon (yes I fake bake and no, I don’t want to hear anything about how tanning causes cancer or is slowly cooking me both inside and out). At least there was a gas station across the street I could get my meals from and I did have a book so…I’m pretty much set.
As it turned out, I was not destined to be “that parking lot girl” and a friend of mine came down to have a look and basically proceeded to perform automotive surgery. Talk about being prepared! This guy had a mini-garage in the back of his car and as he pulled out the tools I felt slightly like a nurse in the ER. “Nurse, I need the thingamabob.” “Yes doctor.” “Now the doohicky” “Right away doctor.”
Ok, so I really didn’t have to do anything but stand there but at least I had my own set of jumper cables so that has to count for something right? He’s cleaning off the battery because there’s goobledygook on it and says we’re going to have to go to Autozone to get some new whatchamacallit. I’m of course, just tagging along because I don’t know what he’s talking about but he walks right over and picks up a new whatchamacallit. Easy enough. So we head to the front to pay, which I’m doing because they’re parts for my car after all. I swipe my debit card and do the whole transaction only to have the guy at the register try to give my friend the receipt. Hello??!! Did you not just see ME take care of the entire transaction? Did I not just use MY card and enter in MY pin number? I realize and openly admit that I know nothing about cars other than the absolute most basic information, like they require gas, but come on! Even if he thought we were together as a couple I don’t see why he wouldn’t hand me the receipt since I was the one handling the payment. But I digress.
So, we get back to the car and he puts the new whatchamacallit on it and gets the car going. I head out and drive around for 40 min or so to make sure the battery is charged. I pull into my apartment and turn off the car then immediately try to turn it back on again to see. Nothing. Not even clicking sounds. Lovely. So I get out of the car only to realize as soon as I shut my locked doors, that my keys are still inside. Do I have a spare set? Yes. Do I know where they are? No. I stand there for a minute looking at my car before finally saying to it, “Really? Do you think this is funny? First you just up and die. I get someone to resuscitate you and not only do you die again but you keep my keys as what? A trophy? Some sort of prize? You’re sick!”
Luckily I remembered the trunk was not locked and since I drive an SUV it’s not really a “trunk” in the normal sense and was able to climb through the back and get my keys. My roommate drove around and we used her car to jump mine and decided to take it on down to the mechanic even though I knew they were closed for the day. My plan was to leave it with a note and call them first thing this morning. We get down there and even though they were technically closed, a few workers were there and nice enough to go ahead and put all my info in the computer so that it would be ready for them to start on today (hopefully, fingers crossed) without having to have me come back down this morning to explain everything. In the meantime, my roommate got up and brought me into work and my fingers are still crossed that they will be able to squeeze my car in to their schedule today and get it running.
And in case they ever read my blog I really do need to say yet another tremendous THANK YOU to my friend, roommate, and the nice people over at Boyer’s Garage. Call on me anytime for anything…unless it’s car problems.