I guess this is a moment I should be proud of, especially in this day and age: my car died because I don't drive it enough. Only I didn't feel proud when I went to turn it on and it just clicked and sputtered. I felt pretty dumb. In fact, I didn't even know it was the battery. I had no idea what the problem was. I thought it was a spark plug. I never thought that it was from pure neglect. I never think about my car anymore. She hates me. But I don't care. She's just a car. But I love her and I don't sell her, even though I never drive her. I haven't driven her in over three weeks. I walk everywhere.
I looked at the clock. It was 7:10. I was supposed to be at my sister Emi's house for dinner.
I got out of the car and went back inside. I called her, "my car won't start."
"Oh, that sucks." she said with a scratch (she's been sick all week). "I'd offer to come get you, but I'm really sick..."
"Oh, that's okay," I said. "I'll just walk over. It just might take a while." I surprised even myself by how calm I felt at the moment. I would deal with the car later.
She called back a minute later. "Kev's coming to get you. He thinks it might be your battery."
"But why would it be my battery?" I asked. What a dope.
"I don't know. Did you leave your light on?"
"I don't know."
Kev showed up a couple minutes later. He pulled up to my car, opened the hood, and clipped on the charger cables, which by the way magically appeared out of nowhere. Kev's always surprising me like that. He's always so prepared. And very efficient. I just stood by the car looking like a dope.
"Okay, try it now."
Bingo. She started and purred like a happy cat. I don't know how long it took--sometime during the quick magic trick, the interior clock on the dashboard flashed and stopped on 12:33--but I'm guessing it was under five minutes.
Rescued and on the road in under five minutes. It's magic. Thanks Kev.
Meanwhile, I'm still feeling like a dope.