Celling the Car

Being that I am incredibly prone to mild injury – especially in the realm of two wheeled transportation – I thought it would be a wise and thoughtful venture to sell my newly paid off 2006 Mazda 3 and purchase a scooter. I am in the process of this and am taking a motorcycle riding course this weekend.

This past week, I decided to get my car sale ready. I am in between jobs right now so this was approximately Tuesday – when you are not working, days don’t really identify themselves. I popped out the dents and turned back the odometer (as if I knew how to do any of that). What I really did was take all of my stuff out of it, vacuum the inside, wash the mats, and generally get it cleaned. I had just finished the inside at my local Kaady Car Wash. I got into the car to take it through and wash the outside. I turned the key in the ignition and heard the fateful sound – the one that sounds a lot like someone is crunching on popcorn kernels and a lot like an engine is not turning because the battery is dead.

I reached into my jacket pocket – which was laid in the passenger’s seat because it was a delightfully sultry 63 degrees out – and remembered that I left my phone at home because there is no reason I would need it. For just this type of scenario, which is ultimately bound to happen to my incident prone self, I committed the house phone number to memory. It is the only phone number, other than my own, that I actually know by heart; because, let’s face it, that is what cell phones are for.

I borrowed the car wash’s phone and called Andrew. He sounded less than enthused about having to stop his work day to come play the knight in shining green Ford Ranger. He said he would be there in about 10 minutes. I asked the car wash people to help me move my car out of their enclosed vacuum stall into one of the open area bays behind my car so that my battery could be reached.They agreed only to help me get the car out of the enclosed bay but not into the open air bay so that I would not block the use of the vacuum stall. However, in pulling me out to where they did, I was blocking the bay that my car had died in, and I was blocking the right of way between the open and enclosed bays. Their “logic” was baffling, but at least they hadn’t offered to get me a tow truck.

Andrew showed up and, if this is even possible, was more introverted than normal. The best thing to do with an introvert when he is in this type of mood is to be as effusive as possible and to constantly ask if everything is OK.

Now back to reality. I gave Berkowitz as much berth as the  middle of a right of way in a car wash could allow and let him curse at the corrosion on his truck battery, at the fact that my battery was apparently beyond boosting ability and at the sunny disposition of his girlfriend. Eventually we gave up readjusting the cables and used the iPhone, that Andrew was good enough to bring with him, to find the O’Reilly’s that was right around the corner. I would say conveniently around the corner but the make-up of the intersection actually made it almost a 20 minute drive there (and 5 minutes back). Before leaving the car wash Andrew and I pushed my car into a parking spot and told the manager we would be back soon with a battery. And we were.

Replacing a battery is far easier than I had anticipated. Then again, all I had to do was not ask Andrew if he needed any help while he did all the work.

And, now, my 2006 standard transmission Mazda3 has almost 110K miles on it, a new battery, is really clean – inside and out – and is only $6000.00.

Any takers?

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