Hi Ho Silver!

I think it’s a pretty safe bet that I know close to nothing about cars. The extent of my knowledge consists of the color, make, year and where the gas goes. So when things started breaking down on the “Ol’ Silver Bullet” (a 2003 Ford Focus) recently I was fit to be tied. I guess I was spoiled by my Saturn which lived a long and happy twelve years with barely an issue. The latest in a long line of vehicular illnesses is the battery light flashing randomly causing me to drive as if I’m in the movie “Speed” and not allowing the car to idle too long or it’s over.

As far as commutes go I have a relatively short one to work, about ten to fifteen minutes. Then I would usually go somewhere for lunch and then back home at the end of the day. All in all I would be on the road for about forty-five minutes a day (give or take.) Each time I would go out for one of these short drives the battery light would pop on and stare at me like Hal’s red electronic eye in 2001. As soon as that tiny red light came on my whole body would go on point and I would begin to pray to myself (and to the car) that I would get to my destination. The biggest test of my nerves would come last Tuesday the night I had to drive out to campus for class. With traffic that’s a forty-five to fifty minute drive including stop lights. Not something I was looking forward to, so when I called the garage to make an appointment to get an inspection I told them my dilemma. Their advice was simple; put the car in park when stopped at a light, don’t use the high beams and keep my fingers crossed.

Just before I had to leave for campus I stopped to get gas in the car. As always the red demon was staring me down as I shut the car off to pump the gas. Once I filled the tank to about half full I got in the car and started it up. The light didn’t come on right away it usually waited for me to be on the road before it would spring itself on me. As I got on the expressway headed toward school I waited for the red monster to appear. I waited, ten minutes; I waited twenty minutes, no light. As I drove I was constantly checking the dashboard for the light to come on. Somewhere around the thirty minute mark I started to become slightly optimistic and began petting the interior muttering things like, “Come on Silver. Atta boy, you can do it.” As I pulled into the parking lot on campus and shut off the car most of the air left my body in relief. But there was still the drive home to consider. Would the old boy have enough in him to make it back home or even to start up after class?

When class was over I made my way back to the car as if I was walking the last mile on death row. I got in the car took a deep breath and turned the key. The car started right up with no evil red battery light glowing in the dark. I followed same routine going home as I did driving in. I gave the ol’ boy positive reassurance and plenty of pats on the dash.

We made it home safely that night and that Friday the “Silver Bullet” was set to go in for an inspection. When I dropped the car off at the garage I explained to the guy how the light never came on again after I put gas in it on Tuesday. He looked at me as if I had mushrooms growing out of my forehead and said, “Those things aren’t related at all.” Not knowing anything about cars I took his word for it. At the end of the day I came to pick the ol’ boy and asked the guy if they found anything that might be causing the battery light to come on. He said they checked all they could think of from the alternator to the battery, they even tried running it on a low gas tank and banging it with a rubber mallet to see if that made it come on, nothing. But the car did pass inspection and the light has now come back on since (knock wood.) I wonder if I should have mentioned I need to smack the dash to get the radio to come back on sometimes. Nah! What could that have to do with anything?