Auto Repair the Female Way

Several months ago Kelly's car, which has more miles on it than my 118,000 miles on my van, wouldn't start outside her apartment. She was heading to work and it just wouldn't turn over. She called me for my expertise in car repair, and I told her I would be right over. This is not the first time I have received a call regarding the Purple Tracker. The last timeit was for a flat tire.

I have absolutely no idea how to change a flat tire because I had a father who took care of my car for me. When I moved to Florida and was on my own, I handled car repairs over the phone with my father or waited until he'd visit. Then I got married. That is one of the top 3 reasons why I got married...I firmly believe men should handle car repairs.

Since Kelly hasn't been successful in the men department, she has me. I try to come to her rescue with my vast knowledge having watched Russ, Tom, and the Internet.

That time, I showed up to change the tire in jeans and my favorite black, silky shirt, with the rhinestone-covered neckline. Kelly was not aware that to repair cars one should look the part. She was wearing sweats and a holey shirt.

We stood beside the car and stared at the flat tire. It was totally squished. We deduced it was flat. We hooked up my battery operated pump to the tire, blew it up to code, or spec, or whatever it says on the sticker inside the car door which I learned from my father. Then we stood and stared at it some more. It looked good. We jumped in the car and drove once around the parking lot. Then we got out and stared at it some more, and then just to be safe, we drove around the apartment complex once more, looked at it again, and then went to Starbucks for some coffee. We took my van for that trip, but the tire has remained blown up since.

So, of course, when there was more car trouble Kelly called me. I recalled some Russ knowledge and asked her some important questions:

Me: "When you turn the key does the engine make a clicking sound? Because if it does that is the starter."

Kelly: "It does nothing. I think the battery is dead."

Tom had already left for work so I turned to the Internet and Googled, How To Jump-Start A Car, printed the information from a site, tossed on my black rhinestone shirt, and headed over to Kelly's in the drizzling rain.

This is what I read to Kelly once we were assembled next to the dead car:

1. Wear a pair of splash-proof, polycarbonate goggles with the designation Z 87 on the frame. This certifies that your goggles are meant for activities such as automotive repair.
2. Batteries contain sulfuric acid, which gives off flammable and explosive gas when a battery is charged or jump-started. Never smoke or operate anything that may cause a spark.
3. Be careful and make sure to follow the directions in order so the battery doesn't EXPLODE.
4. Prevent Blindness America offers a battery safety sticker that lists the correct steps to take when jump-starting a dead battery.

We did the following:

1. Put on our reading glasses purchased at the Dollar Tree. Nothing designated on the frame, but there had once been a sticker on the glass designating the strength that we'd long since removed.
2. We did not smoke and we made the neighbors turn off all electronic devices included stoves, radios, etc.
3. We read the directions over and over so that we knew them by heart.
4. We concluded we didn't need #4 because we had the Internet directions.
5. We called Tom for advice.

Tom's advice was long and complicated and involved getting help. My husband is not a spur of the moment kind of guy when it comes to trouble. He likes to be able to have time, preferably several days, to mull over the information, form a solution, and execute later.

While he hemmed and hawed in my ear, Kelly decided that I should hear what happened when she turned the key having remembered my earlier question. She got inside her car while the details.

Kelly: "I came down at 6:30 AM in the drizzle. I put in the key and heard this..."

At which point, she turned the key.

The engine fired right up.

She was so shocked that she kept turning the key until she realized that the car was working. We stood and listened to the engine running. I held out the cell phone so Tom could hear. We all agreed that the battery was working, but just to be sure Kelly turned off the car and tried it again. It worked like a charm.

Tom had us drive the car up the road to Auto Zone where a nice gentleman lugged out a battery checker machine, cleaned off her terminals, checked the batter, declared it fine, and sent us on our way with some cleaner to finish cleaning off the terminals.

We then drove to Chili's and had some lunch. I'm thinking of getting automotive repair business cards printed.