You would think after my running out of gas experience 13 months ago, I would have learned my lesson. That would make too much sense though.
I first had trouble with my car battery in October. I had to drive the Saturday morning when we had that freak snow storm and rushed out of the car and into the house without unplugging a charger from the cigarette lighter. When we went to go to church Sunday morning, the car wouldn’t start.
I got a jump the following morning before I headed to work and thought nothing of it. Sure, the engine seemed to hang a little when I turned the key in the morning, but I figured I would hold off worrying until I had a real problem.
That came the first day of work in January. We had a little bit of a cold snap, and I hadn’t driven the car in a few days. When I jumped into the driver’s seat that morning ready to tackle 2012, nothing happened.
Some people would look at this as an obstacle. I saw it as an opportunity, an opportunity to go into work a little later than normal while I took care of the battery.
I could have also seen it as an opportunity to get a new battery and put all these problems behind me, but that again would make too much sense. Besides, this was a Tuesday. Getting a new battery is totally a weekend thing.
Each day that week, I promised myself I would call and make an appointment with my mechanic to get a new battery. And each day I found myself derailed by thoughts like “is Cougar Town ever coming back to ABC” and “how did I manage to end up at the bottom of my college football bowl pool?” In other words, I procrastinated and never made the phone call.
I could have done a drop-in appointment, but I had to referee wrestling and had a bunch of other stuff planned. Besides, the car sounded better when I started it Saturday morning to go ref. The problem had resolved itself.
Or so I thought. Later that afternoon, I sat in my car at our church parking lot to pick up my daughter and a friend from a Girl Scout event. I had my phone plugged in to charge and decided to play a game of Tetris – back off, I grew up in the 1980s – as I waited for them to arrive.
A little while later, they piled in the car and I jumped in the driver’s seat. Then, nothing. The 15 minutes of Tetris on my phone drained the battery. By the time I got done cursing my stupidity, everyone had left so I had to call my wife to come get us.
We jumped the car the next day, and I went right to an auto center to get a new battery. I only need the thing to die three times – well, actually four since I drained it while waiting out the rain at a sports assignment 18 months ago – to get the message.