The Fretful Mother's Blog

In my new role as car mechanic, I now have to start thinking about all the wires that can get crossed under the hood. And when I say car mechanic, I mean someone who can change a lightbulb. Yes, it is true. I can now do that. It took a good 30 minutes, some pliers, a manual and a pair of gloves, but it happened. I have never been more proud of myself. I triumphed in the face of certain death.
When I pulled the connecting wire out of the little hole (I don’t know the names of anything down there), I thought surely I have broken something. But I just kept following the manual. That was pretty much my only plan. If the manual had said stick one hand in a bucket of water and stick one hand on a live battery, I would have done it. If the manual had said to pour battery acid into the oil dealy, I would have done it. Granted, these don’t sound like good ideas to me, but the manual was all I had.
Once I finally got everything hooked up as instructed, it was time for the big test: turning on the car. I closed my eyes and prayed to not be blown up. And, thanks to the manual, I wasn’t. The light was actually on and everything. But where would I be without that manual? Probably in a creek somewhere because I’d driven off a cliff that I didn’t see in time. I’d be stuck there for days using my purse to gather bacteria-laden water (I do live in Missouri after all). I think I have some Sonic mints in the glovebox that would last me a few hours too. It was either that or follow the manual. I went with the manual. You can never be too safe.

This entry was posted on December 10, 2009 at 10:40 am and is filed under Fear of the Day. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.