*Sigh* Oh dear. Another vehicle dead in the water.
I really do love baseball season. I just hate car trouble.
After a desperate call to The Hubster, Manlet and I exit our now-inoperable car, then set out on foot to find sustenance for my hunger ravished ball player.
I think back to the last couple of weeks and wonder how my hubby can honestly believe the things his mind puts forth as truth.
My Jeep has been giving us fits for weeks. It seems to be something electrical. Steve thinks that he's fixed it and refuses to believe that it won't run after I had to have it towed home the weekend before last. He couldn't get it to run either.
Trust me, I don't have cars towed just for the fun of it. That weekend our oldest son had to drive 35 miles to come rescue Manlet and I. I don't call for help just because.
After accusing me of leaving my lights on to drain the battery or running out of gas, and following an extensive investigation by my spouse of the a fore mentioned Jeep, Steve finally admitted he couldn't get it running.
Right. My diagnosis and judgement regarding my vehicles is pretty good. Something was wrong and the Jeep couldn't be driven.
Due to an impending trip across our state for another baseball tournament, I went and rented a vehicle. I didn't want to break down three hundred some miles away from home.
The Hubster stayed home and put another new tranny in our Explorer. He had already done that this spring but the $100 used tranny he found on craiglist didn't work. Neither did the phone number of the guy he bought it from.
"But the guy said that it worked just fine when he pulled it out of his wrecked car," states Hubby.
"I thought I asked you to actually drive whatever vehicle you were getting a used tranny from, or have the original tranny in the Explorer rebuilt?" questions me.
"It should have worked!" states The Hubster.
"But it didn't!" stateth I.
"But it costs so much to rebuild one!" blusters my Spouse.
"But you give so much money away to people who sell you parts that don't work!" respondeth an indignant Me.
Had I not walked off, this line of conversation would probably still be going.
Dial forward to two days ago. I jump in the now rebuilt tranny-ed Explorer. I drive Manlet and myself to a game. Game over, we jump back in to head off to grab dinner, then home. As I drove up a slight incline of an major arterial intersection intending to turn left, the Explorer began huffing and snorting as if it were out of gas. After Manlet assured me that he and his father had driven to the gas station the night before to fill up, I cut sharply across three lanes of traffic to my right in order to turn into a store's parking lot. The Explorer literally died right there in the driveway.
Hubby arrived about an hour later. Manlet and I sat waiting in the rig, pizza disappearing down my teenage son's throat at an alarming speed. Steve determined that the battery was completely dead. He had brought a different one with him.
"Steve! Why didn't you change the battery before you sent me off in this if you knew it was bad?" I asked.
"Well, I thought it would be okay," said He. "It seemed to have a little juice left in it."
"But Steve, a car can't run without an electrical charge from a battery!" I thought to myself, for once able to keep that thought from escaping my mouth.
Holy moly, I just don't get his logic. Or lack thereof, lol.