Sometimes It Takes a Village to Start a Car

Last Sunday was very typical as far as Sundays go. At 7am, I heard Thunderbolt, who had been sleeping on my feet, jump off the bed; his internal alarm went off, and it was now time for him to act as mine. As usual, he went out into the hallway and realized that I didn’t get up and follow him out of the bedroom. A minute after his realization that I was not part of his “Time to eat” tribe, he wandered back in the room, circled around the bed, and then sat on the floor and began to meow at me.

At 7:08am, I continued to play dead pulling the covers over my head. Thunderbolt knew this modus operandi all too well, and then jumped up on the bed. He situated himself right next to my head and began to meow at me; if I really wanted to be dead, I would reach out from underneath the covers, pick him up, and then place him on the floor.

At 7:10am, Plume jumped up on the bed landing on my feet and then she jumped onto my bureau. She, far smarter than Thunderbolt, knew there were cat treats in the drawer. She sat on the bureau staring at me intently, hoping that her evil cat eye would entice me to open the drawer and give her a few treats if I wasn’t ready to make my way downstairs.

At 7:13am, I sat up to survey the bedroom territory. By now, in addition to Thunderbolt and Plume, Liam had positioned himself in the doorway. Maybe he was the smartest of them all, because when I did get up, he’d be the first one out the door, down the stairs, and situated in front of his dish.

At 7:15am, I hid under the covers again, wondering how I’d entertain Iz today. At 7:16am, I heard Iz walk out of her room and go into the bathroom; as usual, I didn’t hear the toilet flush. So, when I heard her walk by the door of my room on her way downstairs, I said, “Iz, please go back and flush the toilet,” to which she responded, “Okay, okay, okay!”

At 7:20am, with Thunderbolt, Plume, Liam, and Iz up, I knew I had to join the “Time to eat” tribe. At 7:21am, when Iz jumped off the last step of the stairs into the downstairs hallway, I heard a loud thud. And, at 7:22am, Monty barked; it was then official. Sunday morning had begun, and I needed to go downstairs and tend to the tribe.

At 7:30am, Iz plodded out of the family room and asked me, “What are we going to do today that’s fun, Mommy?” I waved my hand in front of her; she acknowledged my wave and went back to the couch. She knew the wave meant “Do not talk to me until after I’ve had my first few sips of coffee, please.”

After the French Vanilla was flowing through my veins, I first acknowledged the three furry creatures that were staring at me and the one furry creature that was barking at me. I went to the “Time to eat” cabinet, and then I proceeded to feed everyone. Okay, four creatures down, and there was one to go.

I asked Iz, “Bagel or cereal?” She answered, “Bagel.” I popped a bagel into the toaster, and when it popped, I slathered it in cream cheese.

I put it on a plate, and I delivered it to Iz who was now on the couch watching “Despicable Me” for the third time. I handed her the plate, and she took it from me. I turned to make my escape back into the kitchen for a second cup of French Vanilla when she spoke. Damn!

She asked, “Mommy, so what are we going to do that’s fun today?” I stopped, and I thought; I felt guilty because I had been a single parent for a few days, and I felt a need to make up for the absence of the departed parent. I quickly said, “Um, we have a few gift cards; let’s go spend them.”

She said, “Yay!!!!” I loved my daughter. But, I loved my daughter even more because she liked to shop for things that we had gift cards for, namely Barnes & Noble and Bath and Body Works.

After we spent all our gift cards, we were ready to go home. I love gift cards, but they’re such a scam in that you can never spend just what’s on your gift card. That is, you’re always putting out more money to cover your purchase, and the gift card people so know that!

At 2:55pm, Iz and I climbed into the car. I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened.

Not being a car person, I swore under my breath. My car had given me no indication whatsoever that it potentially might not think about starting during the course of the day. All of a sudden at 2:55pm, I turned the key and it said, “I can’t hear you, Jean! La-la-la!”

This was not right. Surely, if my car was sick, it would have given me some notification. It would have said at 1:58pm, my starter is a bit scratchy, or at 2:15pm, it would have said, “I think I’m going to toss spark plugs!”

So, Iz and I were stuck in the mall parking lot with a dead car. I tried to remain calm while flipping through my mental Rolodex to see who might be the most willing to come and jump start the car if that was even a possible solution. I stopped at the “Ns.” N was for Nathan, my 17-year-old son.

Thinking about it now, I probably should have flipped a few more pages. Nathan didn’t have a car readily available. Amazingly though, he had a better social life than I had at his age even without a car.

I called Nathan, explained our dilemma, and then he said he’d have to call me back. My son had put me on hold, which wouldn’t have been bad if I had been by myself. But, since realizing that we were going nowhere soon, Iz was already on her 145th question, the last one being, “Are we going to have to go sleep at a hotel?” I loved the way the 7-year-old mind worked, but sometimes it drove me crazy, especially when I had no way to escape it.

Nathan called me back saying that he could borrow his stepmother’s car; however, he was not granted the ability to jump me with it. She drove a Volvo not a Ferrari for heaven’s sake! I sighed and quickly flipped back through the cards in my mental Rolodex until I came across the “Es.”

E was for Ellen. Ellen was my husband; okay, unfortunately on paper, Ellen wasn’t my husband. She was just a very good neighbor who helped me out a lot, probably more so than any husband I ever had did.

With my husband, Ellen, came her husband, John, who had gotten me out of a few jams (plumbing and locking myself out of the house) more than once. I told Nathan to stay put, and he seemed glad to do so. I didn’t blame him, because I would have rather been in a warm bedroom playing X-box than freezing in a car in a mall parking lot with Iz who was on her 152nd question which was, “Do you have any food?”

I called Ellen and explained my dilemma. Ironically, her husband and her eldest son were 5 minutes away from us at the grocery store. She gave me his cell number, and I called.

When he answered, I again explained our dilemma while Iz asked her 154th question which was “Will we get to drive home in their car?” John said he would send his son over with the car to give us a jump, and I said that I’d save the empty parking spot next to my car for their car.

I told Iz, “Stay in the car and keep warm,” because it wasn’t over 25 degrees outside. I told her I was going to stand in the parking space and watch for the car. It’s a good thing it wasn’t Christmas time, or I might have gotten killed for attempting to save a parking space.

In two minutes, Iz opened her door, jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and then came around to where I was standing. I guess my statement about staying in the car and being warm fell on deaf ears. She said, “Mommy, I want to wait with you.”

Okay, I didn’t want her to get cold, but I had to love her for wanting to feel my pain, which was beginning to take the form of frostbite in my finger tips. A few cars drove by and the occupants looked at us curiously. What? Like you’ve never seen a woman and her child standing in the middle of a parking space when it’s 25 degrees outside looking like they were waiting for the circus to arrive?!

Fortunately, for Iz, this adventure was better than the circus. She was true to her hardy Polish-German roots. I knew in a crisis, she’d make the best of it; that was a good trait to have when you were only 7-years-old.

I saw Ellen’s son pull into the parking lot. I waved my arms. He saw me, and then he pulled into the parking spot.

He pulled out his jumper cables and popped his hood. He said, “Oh, my battery is on the other side” meaning that he needed to move his car to the other side of mine. I was beginning to think then that my car was destined to remain in the mall parking lot until the circus really did arrive.

Fortunately, the car parked on the other side of my car pulled out. He back out and pulled his car into that space. Hoods were popped, cables were connected, and then “Vroooom,” the lovely sound of my car starting.

Iz cheered. Ellen’s son smiled. I rested my head on the steering wheel and sighed while Ellen’s son disconnected the cables.

“MooooorV” went my car as it died. We tried a few more times with no more success. I said, “It looks like we’re coming home with you.”

Iz and I piled all our purchases in the back seat of Ellen’s car. We climbed in and after two minutes, the feeling started to return to my fingers. We went over to pick up John at the supermarket.

He looked surprised to see me and Iz sitting in the backseat. He realized the car starting effort was a total bust. At that point, I was ready to go home, be warm, and worry about it the next day.

I think this is where some men and women differ. For me, it was “I fought the machine, and the machine won!” For John, it was “I will fight the machine, and I will win!”

We headed back over to the car, John strung the cables together to reach my battery, and we again tried to start the car a few more times; all attempts were unsuccessful. While sitting in the car, I turned to the car parked to the right of me and noticed a woman getting into it. She mouthed “Do you need help?” to me.

I opened my door, and I thanked her. She reminded me a lot of my sister-in-law, Lisa. She looked like Lisa, and I’m sure this was the kind of thing Lisa would do – linger to help a stranger who refused help but who she sensed needed help anyway.

She began to talk to someone in the car. I then noticed a man in the passenger’s side next to her. He was tilting his seat forward; it looked like he was ready to nap on the ride home until she said “I think you should help them out” to him.

We were all mystified as to why the car wouldn’t start. I didn't even see her husband get out of the car; I was ready to give up when her husband, a stocky man wearing a long white beaded chain to which a white cross was attached, made his way around the hood of their car. He looked very serious as he surveyed my engine, the cables, and then the cables connected to Ellen’s car.

He went back to his car and pulled out his cables. He disconnected the cables we had been using; of course, we were all cold and perplexed, so he heard no “We’ve got it under control” from the lot of us. He then meticulously and quietyly executed his plan to start my car.

He said to his wife, “Baby, make sure the car isn’t started.” She said, “It isn’t,” and held up her key so he could see that it wasn't even near the ignition. I smiled at her and laughed; she smiled back at me as if to say, “He’s a serious guy, so I need to prove that I’m just as serious!”

Instead of connecting the cables in under a minute, he connected one and then double-checked it. He then connected another and then double-checked it. I wanted to laugh, but I was in awe of this man who had left his lazy-boy seat in the car to come out into the 25 degree temperatures to help me, a total stranger, start my car.

When everything was just right, he said to his wife, “Baby, start the car.” I loved the way he called her “Baby.” And, every time he said it, it sounded just like “I love you.”

He told me to start my car. I took a deep breath and turned the key. “Vroooom!” said my car.

Iz and I both squealed with delight. Just as carefully as he put the cables on, he took them off and then shut the hood of his car. I jumped out of my car, walked around to him, and I hugged him. He seemed rather shocked by the display of affection, but then his serious face gave way to a big smile as I said, “Thank you so much!”

I walked over to his wife. I touched her arm, and I said, “Thank you so much. That was so nice of you.” Still feeling like I was looking at Lisa, I was struck by how sometimes family members are not nearby but how near they can feel even when they are someone else.

Ellen’s husband and her son closed their hood and climbed into their car. The helpful strangers back out and drove off. I climbed into the car, and Iz asked, “That was really nice of them, wasn’t it, Mommy?”

I told her it was, and we headed home. When we pulled in the driveway, I turned off the car. I then realized that was probably a mistake, so I tried to start the car again; it wasn’t speaking to me at all, even after Ellen’s husband came up to try to start it once again.

We gave up, and I thanked John. Iz and I headed inside. I went through my mental Rolodex again, and I arrived at the “Bs.” (Did you notice that I was working through it backwards? Post-it note to self: Begin with the As next time!)

B was for Bill, my cycling buddy. When he had worked, he had been involved in managing fleets of cars and also in the automotive industry. I texted him and ask if he might help me out on Monday; he texted me right back and said he would be glad to.

The first challenge on Monday was to get Iz to school. I asked Bill if he could drive her. When Bill showed up with his pick-up truck, Iz was mesmerized.

She asked if she could sit in the front. I hesitated, and then Bill told me he could turn off the airbags. It was a 5-minute drive, so I told her to go ahead; she beamed as she perched herself in the front seat and closed the door quickly before I could rethink my decision.

When Bill returned 20 minutes later, he told me that Iz had commented, “I’ve never been in a car like this!” When they were in the drop-off queue, Bill had asked Iz if the line was always that long. She quickly said, “Yes, it is. But, don’t cut in line,” to which Bill responded, “Iz, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

The plan was to jump the car. I pulled out my jumper cables, and Bill said, “No wonder. Those aren’t good cables.” He walked around to the back of his truck and pulled out his jumper cables; the cable resembled a 30 foot boa constrictor and the clamps looked like Jack Lalanne compared to my Twiggy.

After I turned the key the first time, my car said, “Vrooom!” I drove my car to Bill’s house, and he hooked it up to some sort of battery tester. He said he’d drive me to work and try to diagnose the problem.

When I got into work, I worried that I might need a new battery or alternator. The car was over ten years old; I knew it was time for a new car, though I wasn’t ready for that step yet. An hour later Bill texted me to tell me that he had fixed the car.

I had a bad battery connector. My car was fixed, and it only cost $13.47. Bill picked me up at lunch, drove me to get my car, and I had my car back in working order by 1pm.

Lately, I was feeling a tad sorry for myself and all that was going on or not going on in my life; however, as I drove back to work, I realized how fortunate I was to have all these wonderful people, those I knew and those I didn't, in my life. Ultimately, it was nice to have someone special in your life, but it was a whole lot more important to have a lot of “ones” in your life, much more so than the wrong someone. ♥