Tuesday, November 30, 2010


I was forced by circumstances, once again, to be a mechanic yesterday. The battery died on the better half’s car. At first we thought it was the starter, but we cleverly deduced it was the battery with the help of a heapum good friend.

So, you think to yourself, “Changing a battery. How hard could it be?”

Well. I’m writing this right now as a way of releasing the stress in order to not harm myself physically or otherwise due to the trauma of the experience.

Just kidding. Mostly.

I don’t know what it is with me and cars. It’s like a curse really. It costs a fortune to have them fixed, and we don’t have a fortune, so sometimes I have to do it. And I know how to do a few things, theoretically, but just changing a battery these days requires the removal of bars and clips and electrical boxes with hidden screws and levers that all get in the way and make you want to pull your hair out.

I also have this talent for having EVERY wrench, screw driver or socket size known to mankind except, of course, the specific one I need to do the job. That particular tool will just not be there. Just. Not. So I have to drive up to the hardware store several times to buy (spend more hard earned money on) this tool or that one, which will somehow disappear again the next time I have to work on the car. I drop things constantly -- sockets, screws, my patience -- into the engine compartment, where they mystically disappear, as if into thin air, resulting in an additional hour spent fruitlessly searching for what was dropped. I cut myself and have a hard time with the small screws and such because of my Carpal Tunnel syndrome. And my back starts to hurt from all the bending over because, you know, I don’t have any of that fancy work on your car stuff that some people have.

I am not exaggerating any of this. I’m completely serious. It’s a predictable nightmare every time.

The only thing I can figure is:

1. God doesn’t want me working on my car.
2. God wants me working on my car so I can learn patience.
3. God just needs a laugh once in a while, so he breaks my car down to watch what I do.

Frankly, the only one that appeals to me is option three. I am willing to do it if it makes God laugh.

Romans 11:34-36
Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2010


  1. This is totally me in these situations except we never even had tools at our house growing up. I remember going next door several times to borrow a hammer or whatever. LOL! Sorry about all of this! I hate it as much as you do.

  2. i think you got god figured out...all three sound right.

  3. Option 4: The engineers who designed your car are evil minions of Satan!


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