I have a Zen-like belief that if my car doesn’t want to take me someplace, maybe it’s better that I don't go. Today my car did not want to take me to the battery store. I wanted to go to the battery store because the car’s battery has been acting like a sullen teenager lately, only working part time and grudgingly at that. So I thought it needed replacing.
Sullen batteries are easier to replace than sullen teenagers. I know. I was a sullen teenager. There were times when my parents wished they could replace me with a battery. Unlike sullen teenagers, batteries don’t eat everything not frozen solid, don't break curfew, and don't get other batteries pregnant with little batteries. Not that I got any batteries pregnant, you understand, but that was then and this was now, and now my Zen thinking was in conflict with my desire for automotive mobility. It was quite an internal crisis. For both the battery and for me.
Anyway, I thought I had charged the battery with a 100 mile drive last week, but when I tried to start the car today, the engine said “crick crick.” See, it’s a Japanese car, and Japanese cars don’t say “click click” when the battery is acting like a sullen teenager and refuses to start the car. They say…well…you get the picture.
But out of the mud may bloom the lotus. It’s possible that my sullen teenaged battery may have saved me from a gruesome wreck on the way to the battery store. I thought about being squashed into road kill by a speeding big rig whose driver was so hopped up on truck stop coffee that he thought my car was a speed bump. I puddled up at the thought my untimely demise. Poor Mike. Cut down in the prime of his senility. Then I wiped away my tears and blew my nose in a Handi Wipe or maybe on the nearest sleeve and tried to start the car again. “Crunk,” it said, and that was that.
Okay. I can take a hint. I called the Insurance Angel whose company provides roadside assistance. This was my third call this month. We’re getting to be old friends.
“You again,” she said. “What is it this time?”
I told her my car would not start. It sat there like a sullen teenager and muttered ’crunk’ the last time I turned the key.
She let out a sigh that crossed state lines. “Ooookay, Mister Brownie. I’ll call a tow company. Again. And stop buying cars that don’t speak English.”
As it happened, my car did not need a tow. Just a shot of battery Viagra from a more virile battery that worked out consistently and ate a lot of battery vitamins, which the tow company truck provided.
“You again,” the driver said. “Why don’t you get a battery with better manners?”
That’s just what I did when I finally got to the battery store.
“You again,” said the battery man, then he took the battery’s pulse and blood pressure. The prognosis was not good. “Your battery terminals are terminal,” he said, and got me another battery. This battery recently finished a stint in battery rehab, “but I can’t guarantee that it won’t relapse,” said the battery man.
Well, if this battery won’t start my car, maybe it’s my car’s karma. But it did, and me and the car were as happy as Buddha under a Bo tree.
Comments?
"Prime of your senility" Dang, you're younger than I am and I'm NOT senile. Always fun to read your stories. -- Carol M.
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You again? By the way, I think our cars are related. -- Beatysr
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Ahaaaaa loved it -- Juli
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I enjoyed reading your column. I am delighted with my low tire pressure light that has kept me from having a flat tire on 3 occasions. -- Ken
Thanks, Ken. I dunno about having a car smarter than I am.
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I'll probably never look at little batteries the same, again -- Pirate
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Crick? Pretty funny Mike -- Lynda
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Cutest one yet! -- Tab A
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Laughing so hard I ....well you know. That was one of the funniest ever. Good job! -- Mary Pat
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Entertaining as always.
You know, I had to chuckle. First, my AAA man knows me by my first name because for some reason I obstinately will not put a key box magnet on my car somewhere or keep an extra key in my really tiny purses. I simply get out of the car and leave the keys in the ignition enough times that when I call AAA, the man says "Hi, Zoey. How have you been...I mean, other than today when you locked your keys in your car again?"
So, I chuckled at your piece. We know something's going wrong but we just put it off a little longer. We make love to it with our voices as though it was a familiar lover with no intention of failing to make you come just like he always does. Well, perhaps a bad analogy, but that's where my head...uh...my mind was.
Anyway...thanks for the smile, Mike -- Zoey
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Funny, as usual. You're such a joy to read. -- Amanda
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You sure know how to turn a demi-tragedy into a good comedy -- Karen S.
