Some people out there may remember when I locked my keys in the car. Feel free to click the link for a refresher on that situation because I'm about to tell another marvelous story with a similar feeling.
The list, for anyone curious, is of 26 things to do because I'm turning 26 on the 26th of this month (Yes, you could say I'm my mother's child in this way). On this list, one of the items was 'buy something out of a quarter machine.' That's what Linsey and I were in pursuit of. And at our first stop, we only acquired a finger light shaped like a tank (something that did come in handy later on). So we decided to check out Shopko's options as well, just as they were closing.
We made it just in time to adopt the lovely creatures seen here (does anyone know what animal UF could possibly be?) Before they could kick us out, we headed back to the car. Still debating the identity of UF, I turned the key to start the car. As Linsey describes it, it sounded like this: __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I'm not going to say I freaked out but I nearly shut down. Linsey leapt straight into action. She immediately called a friend to come jump it and followed that up with a call to her brother to see if it really was the battery. She was the superhero of the evening; I'd probably still be sitting there if I'd been by myself!
Our friend arrived to attempt to jump my car. This included mile-long jumper cables, a difficult side-mount battery, and repeated attempts. Still nothing happened. No lights. No sounds. I even had to lock my doors by hand.
The decision was made to then remove the battery to go get it checked. Around this time, the first kind stranger pulled up, hoping to use his brand new jumper cables. Instead, he was able to loosen and remove the battery for us. Thanking him, we left to go to AutoZone (because it supposedly closed at 11 - no, the one we went to was closing when we got there). Either way, they tested it - bad battery. Then sent us up the road to their store that was open until 11. However, we passed an O'Reilly's with an open sign (we would have gone here originally but thought they closed at 10 - no, they were open until 11. Oh the confusion!) With all that settled, we bought a battery with relative ease...I was still quite out of it but Linsey kept things going - for which, I am most grateful!
But I think we'd nearly reached our limit because, walking out of O'Reilly's, Linsey starts laughing - busting a gut as they say (who says that? I haven't the foggiest!) I looked at her like, "What is happening?" And looking around her, I see a dog driving a car.
Okay, so it was just in the driver's seat but it was staring at us like driving was the most natural thing for it to be doing. His gaze followed us as we laughed our way to Linsey's car. I swear it was judging us as it did so.
In better spirits...at least, in crazier spirits, we returned to Shopko and my car. As dead as when we left, we used the finger light tank to light the way to implant the battery. Part way through this, two more kind strangers walked up with a flashlight to light the necessary area. Having done our best connecting, I went to try the key again.
I think I should interject here...but mostly to procrastinate the reveal. Did it work or didn't it? Maybe I should end this post here and take a poll. Who out there thinks that this is the end of the story? That my car started right up and we went on our way...Or is it possible that there's more to the story? A moral perhaps? Or another joke at least? Oh okay...I'll tell you.
Nothing. The floor lights flashed and disappeared. And as Linsey's describes it, it sounded like this: __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I couldn't even think of what to do next. Linsey decided to double check with her brother about the circumstances. And I went in search of the flashlight I was pretty sure I had in the trunk. A few minutes later, we returned to the engine with a new flashlight and motto: "Let your light so shine before men..." And we disconnected the battery again. A few sparks and a pair of protective gloves later, Linsey had implanted the battery yet again. It was during this time that it started to rain and we decided that it would be nice to have lightning strike the battery, if it meant the car would start.
So we've come again to the part where I try to start the car again. But Linsey stops me.
"Wait! Let's pray. I'll say it."
I thought for a moment about a discussion we'd had an hour or so before about how I'd never really been able to see God in car problems. And as I listened to one of my best friends plead for us and for my car, I could feel a connection there. My Heavenly Father was aware of my dead battery. He'd sent kind strangers and thoughtful, capable friends to work miracles in the lonely parking lot.
The prayer ended; I opened the car door.
The lights came on.
I don't think we even needed to start the car to know that our prayer had been answered. But I turned the key, the engine roared, and we released all the tension in our laughter of relief. When we'd gotten all that out, Linsey suggested another prayer. I was more than happy to say it. Heavenly Father was certainly watching out for us and I wanted Him to know how grateful I was for that.
As Linsey wrote on my windshield: We saw a miracle and a dog driving a car! And, this is how a quarter machine quest turns into a hundreds of thousands of dollars battery-implantation excursion.
To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised I escaped without locking my keys in the car during this adventure too!
