Cru Jones Society

 

Generally I like drinking only in good times and good health. Times like the weekend before a birthday and you hit happy hour before a movie, or beer while playing poker and not folding with the low straight, or a tasty margarita with your shrimp adventure dinner, or relaxing in the evening with a glass of whiskey and a cigar as you put another birthday behind you.

But sometimes a wrench is thrown in the sprockets and you end up drinking because you’re pissed, upset, or just plain sad. What follows is the reason Tuesday and Wednesday were spent drinking because I was pissed, upset and just plain sad.

Tuesday morning I awoke refreshed, relaxed, and ready to enjoy the day. I made it through another birthday and I had survived the long weekend I spent celebrating it. I was ready to get past the next eight hours of work and head right over to the bar for our monthly trivia night. The last two times we won and this time we were coming with a posse that more than doubled our usual gang of four.

I hopped in my car and made my way south having to make one stop for gas before I was ready to get on with the evening. Little did I know that one little stop would be longer than I would hope and damper my next 26 hours.

The car started to putter as it approached the intersection. I had a break in the on coming traffic and I started to go. My car had other ideas and it began to inexplicitly shut down. I knew I was low on gas but figured I had enough to at least get to the gas station and home again. I limped through the intersection and just barely made it out of harm’s way when the car shut down completely. No lights, no heat, no power, no way.

After sitting for a few minutes in a quiet panic I realized I had to make some calls. I called one of the people I was supposed to meet for trivia, who knows a lot about cars and auto mechanics. My wish was that he hadn’t left for trivia yet, and that he would be leaving from his nearby girlfriend’s house. He wasn’t at his girlfriend’s, but he was nearby and was very willing to come help me out.

I just had to wait.

As I waited I watched as cars had to take wide turns around my awkwardly placed car. After watching more cars than I would like to admit pass me by, someone actually offered to help. Two gentlemen helped me push my car out of the way. As we rolled the inactive hunk of metal down the residential suburban street I couldn’t help but feel like Doc and Marty trying to hide the DeLorean in 1955. Once the car was nicely situated out of the way, I got in and waited, with no heat I might add, for my friend to show up and thought about where I would be able to find weapons grade plutonium.

My friend arrived with another friend. I explained the situation and we all assumed I needed a jump. I popped the hood and we attempted to locate the battery. This task had always been easier on my former cars. It was tucked away with Waldo in a place that was practically obvious. It’s a good thing I’m pretty, cause I’m not that bright. Several failed attempts at a jump-start told us it would take more work than attaching cables to a working car.

My friend was under the impression he could crack the code but he needed his tools, or his dad’s tools. Neither set was particularly close. I told him to forget about it at this moment. We had people at the trivia bar waiting for us. Let’s enjoy some good brews, good pals, and good times and deal with this asshole car later. He took this opportunity to ask his roommate, who was going to meet us, to grab his tools from the garage and bring them along.

In retrospect, going to trivia may have not been my best choice. I was preoccupied and thusly couldn’t focus on the answers and use my useless knowledge to its full potential. This caused me to get Broadcast News and Network mixed up costing us two points and we ended up tied for third and had to compete in a dance off which we lost to a pregnant broad. My winning streak came to an end. At least I had beer.

After the distraction for a few hours, it was time to get back to reality. Back at my car my fried used his battery gauge to check my battery. It confirmed that my battery was dead and there wasn’t a chance of ressurection. We did however decide the cold dark snowy night was the opportune time to remove the braces and take out my battery knowing full well Auto Zone wasn’t open at 11 pm.

I was dropped off at home and had to figure out how I was going to get to work in the morning. Here were my options: take one bus to another bus to work, walk the 4 miles to that second bus, or act like I’m in my early teens and ask my mom for a ride.

The first option involved a lot of coldness and very little room for error since the first bus was scheduled to arrive only four minutes before the second bus was supposed to leave. The second option involved walking four goddamned miles in the cold. The third was very emasculating, but my best option.

My mom worked until 3:00 am and was willing to crash at my apartment then take me to the bus 3 hours later. When she arrived at my place at 3:30 she called so I could let her in. This startled and confused me, and in the commotion I pressed the speaker button on my phone by accident and couldn’t understand why she was talking so loudly.

I got her settled in and went back to bed where I slept like shit the rest of the night, er morning. I got up feeling completely un-rested, got ready for work, then rode with my mommy to the bus stop thinking she talks way too much in the mornings. I got out of the car, waved good-bye, boarded the bus and wondered if the rest of life was as difficult as the fourth grade.

I rode the bus with no clear idea of how I would get home. Once at work I asked a co-worker who rode my same evening bus if she would be willing to drive me home. She said yes. That was really straight forward which makes for an uninteresting paragraph, but I knew how I was getting home, so one problem solved.

I spent the rest of work tired, cranky, and praying it was only my battery and nothing more serious or costly.

The end of the day came and I headed home. The girl I was going to ride with almost missed the bus, which would have just been the icing on the cake. She drove very erratically and ran several lights I would definitely classify as orange. Once at my apartment I new I would be asking someone else if I ever needed a ride from a co-worker again.

My friend from the previous night showed up and we took my battery to Auto Zone to have it tested. A service they do for free! Shop Auto Zone for all your auto part needs. I should really find a way to get paid for advertising like that. Their test was coming up inconclusive so we were sent away for an hour while they charged the battery. We got some chicken strips and beer and watched the Avs dig a deeper hole for themselves.

90 minutes, and 80 dollars later, we were on our way to put a freshie in my car. A ten-minute install and we were ready to try it out. I turned the key; we had lights and the sound of a car trying to start. That’s right it did not fully start. Fuck. What was it now?

We tried everything we could think of. We unhooked and re hooked the battery, checked every fuse, thumbed through the owner’s manual, and even pressed the reset button. Apparently my car has a reset button like it’s a fucking Nintendo Entertainment System. An hour later and still nothing.

That’s when my friend got in the driver seat and was about to demonstrate how big of a moron I could possible be. After giving the ignition a few turns he noticed the fuel gauge needle wasn’t moving at all. That’s when he casually asked if I had gas in the car. As I said earlier I was sure I had enough to at least get home.

I was wrong.

We got a gas can, filled it with gas, and then put that gas into my car. Started up first try after that. Turned my face red and made me feel like a complete jackass. Let this be a warning, the simplest answer may seem completely retarded, but more often than not it’s the completely right solution.

First the Network question, then lack of gasoline, I am having a real “dar!” kind of week. I need a beer.

A very grateful “thank you” to Keithage and Deuce for their help in this fiasco.

See ya in the corner… I’ll be the one in the dunce cap.

lee.s.hart@crujonessociety.com