Here’s the thing: Everything’s hard if you’re dumb.
Although plenty of dumb people can jump-start a car.
The deal is, Pat’s car was at my house for a week while she lolloped off to Hawaii. And because her car spent that much time in the Murr Bollixing Zone, the same zone in which my dishwasher just backed up and I spent an hour and a half removing three screws, and then snapped off a tiny piece of plastic rendering the entire appliance dead as a doornail, her car died also.
Nothing happened when she pressed the power button, except that with its one last flicker of life, she lowered her car window to talk to me, and that was that. So now her window was stuck open, whereupon right on cue it started to rain.
Most people would come up with a plan in this scenario quickly. My first thought was “Well, you’re fucked, I guess you’re staying at my house until the Toyota fairy shows up, and that can be days.” I made a mental inventory of meal ingredients I had on hand and whether I’d changed the sheets on the guest bed. Pat’s first thought, in its entirety, was “Shit. Shit.”
I kept thinking and got a new idea. “Maybe we can jump it,” I said hopefully, although my entire lifetime experience jumping cars has involved me knocking on doors until some man came out and did it for me, a process that required being cute for a number of decades, until it wore off and I got my old-lady card.
“I don’t think so,” Pat said, “because there’s something special about Prius batteries that you can’t just get in there and do it.”
That seemed odd, but then I had the idea she could call her insurance company to see if she had roadside assistance. She said she was pretty sure she didn’t. But she called anyway. First I had to phone her because she couldn’t find her phone, and it duly piped up in another room. The phone call was unproductive. In lieu of a human, there was an instruction to download the app and log in, and another half hour passed, and she ultimately located a human who said she wasn’t in the system at all and didn’t have insurance, certainly not theirs, but she called someone else who said she did. And not only that but she had roadside assistance. So we’re learning all sorts of things around here. Meanwhile I got a garbage bag and stuffed it in her window.
While she was on hold I asked her about her battery. She’d just had the car in for a whole different problem and they’d told her that, by the way, it had died on them. “How did you get it back then?” She said they’d jumped it. The battery place she took it to said it was still good.
Aha! I started youtubing how to jump an old Prius. Didn’t look too hard. The nice Russian fellow in the video said we needed to open the Wehicle to supply Woltage that is Missink from the Bottery. We gave it a go. I had jumper cables (a miracle) and we followed the video. We had to pry off a plastic lid by fumbling with a latch that neither of us could find with our fingers, so I went back to youtube. While I was researching, Pat muscled the thing off by force, which I happen to know is how you break your dishwasher. But it worked.
Then the hard part. See, I’ve watched this numerous times, but years can go by between episodes. I know you snap this on that, and the other end on the other thing, and the third thing over there, and the fourth on a metal part of the car somewhere, but there’s a very specific order and if you don’t do it just that way your whole car blows up and you burn down the whole block. This is why, historically, I have always stood well back and looked ingratiating.
So we youtubed it. I stood across the street and made Pat do the final connection because she’s taller, if not, apparently, any more butch than me, and there were some sparks, but nothing blew up, and my car generously shared its Woltage, and Pat drove off and all is well. And it only took us an hour and a half, same amount of time it takes to remove three screws.
How did the cavemen start their cars in the days before youtube? I’ll tell you. Back then they had Lore. I’m going to get me a box of that. It’s probably on amazon.
In order to be prepared for any eventuality while visiting his friend — a cancer patient with a tracheotomy — my brother-in-law watched a YouTube on how to stab a choking person in the neck with a Bic pen to open up an airway. He felt he could do it if necessary and assured his friend he was ready. It turned out to be a strained visit anyway.
I seem to remember an episode of MASH, where Hawkeye had to use a pen to assist a choking person while they were out in the field. YoungMimi found that WAY cool!
If a person already has a tracheotomy, there’s no reason to stab someone in the throat as they already have a hole in their throat. My best friend had a trach as a result of being paralyzed. Suffocating him was easy. Just unconnected the little squeaker in his throat or let mucous build up in his airways. He got rescued several times by his wife. He used to have me unhook and clean up his squeaker. Scared the bejesus out of me, but somehow never killed him that way.
Susan, you made me splort out my oatmeal. God bless youtube.
I’m familiar with all that though. My dad had a tracheotomy and his was a particularly nasty demise.
Back at the turn of the century, I used to subscribe to a men’s magazine called Maxim. Not to ogle the ladies, but because they had some great humorous articles, and also a section on weird survival strategies. I don’t remember if the pen tracheotomy was one of them, but there were other neat things like how to jump off a bridge into water without dying (it involved tucking your body a certain way, but it’s moot since I can’t swim), building makeshift shelters in the cold, stuff like that. It’s not that I found it useful for my lifestyle, but I was fascinated. Then they decided to just focus on the ogling of women and advice on how to get them. No more humor. No more survival section. I immediately cancelled my subscription.
Now I use YouTube, which I also did when I had to jump start my truck. I cringed while I did it, but felt so accomplished when I pulled it off without injuring myself or the truck.
Isn’t there a whole book on how to survive horrible things? That body-tucking thing–they got that from pelicans. Who can also fly. I can’t fly OR swim. I stay on high ground.
A good-enough strategy, but you also tumble and roll. You said so yourself.
With good bone density. Go with your strengths.
The one time my husband and I tried to jumpstart our car, he got the jumper cables on backwards, the battery started smoking, and without thinking I grabbed the clamp with my bare hand to pull it off so probably should have been electrocuted. Obviously we are mechanical idiots and that is why I cling to AAA 😅
Y’all are making me feel better about the whole thing. Hey, we DID it.
Edna, AAA is the best thing in the world. You haven’t lived until you’ve had the AAA locksmith come out and open the car door after you stupidly locked your keys in the car yet again. $120 a year or whatever very well spent.
I managed to weld one cable to the battery post. Didn’t blow up the battery.
And I’m the guy who was struck by lightning and not knocked out or burned. I only have marks in my brain that show up on an MRI.
I haven’t got a doubt in my mind, Bruce!
I blew one up too- unclear as to why. …… the battery salesmen haven’t got anything on us, do they?
Great story. It would make a very funny scene in a sitcom.
I’ve never been that interested in cars from a tinker/fixit standpoint. I don’t mind getting dirty in the garden or woodshop, but getting greasy under the hood of a car is not for me. The last time I tried to fix something with a car (30 years ago) I managed to put a hole in a brake line. Now everything is just too complex when you look at what’s crammed in under the hood.
I do love our Toyota Prius plug-in hybrid and only two trips per YEAR to the gas station.
I used to do the oil changes, radiator flushes and even changed spark plugs a few times. But then I bought a new car that came with a lifetime of free oil changes and that was the end of me playing mechanic. There was also the size issue. I’m a big guy with really big hands and first cramming myself under a little car was tough and then there was fitting a hand into a tiny space to hook an oil filter wrench on the oil filter that I could barely see. And that was that. Even after the free oil changes went away I still was taking the successive cars to the mechanic to have that done. And now I have a car that’s so low to the ground that I’ll probably be plowing snow with it… assuming we ever have snow again.
Will, if I ever get another car, it will probably be an electric, and then I’ll have to be one of those sorry people with a cord stretching across the sidewalk. However, from what I’ve read, I’m in good shape with my old Yaris that has never given me a lick of trouble and which doesn’t do ANYTHING special, and if I’ve ever pined for a car that would let me know when I’m about to cream someone in my blind spot–I remember that these cars need to be driven at least weekly to even run, and that is NOT in my plans.
I’ve rented cars that gave warnings when other vehicles were alongside me and the warnings got more strident if I signaled that I was going to change lanes and there was something on that side. Those were all gas powered vehicles and I drive a lot, so I don’t know if there’s some minimum amount of driving that needs to be done per week. Were you referring to electric vehicles?
I’ve never heard of a driving frequency requirement for electric vehicles. I know our plug-in hybrid doesn’t have one. I once drove a Yaris with a right hand drive, a stick shift, and on the left side of the road in Australia. That was fun!