Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2019-04-25 08:12 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2019-04-25 08:12 pm
Entry tags:
Car
Turns out my alternator was fucked.
The other weekend, Belovedest had made paired appointments for us at their mechanic. The car had become inoperative after the last battery replacement and attempt at emissions testing (which failed due to a sudden check engine light).
The symptoms were similar, and indicated that this new battery was not serving up enough electrons to turn on the "door open" light, let alone turn over the engine.
So the plan was to jump mine off Belovedest's (their car is a different color and a different year than mine, but otherwise the same make and model, which is cute) and have us both drive to the appointment.
The cables were produced. A charge was applied.
The car started!
Belovedest took off the cables. The dash lights flickered, but went back off.
I shifted gears.
The car shuddered to a halt.
We tried again.
We left it running for five minutes hooked up. Same result, except this time the dash lights did not all go off as the car rallied from having the umbilical removed, not until I shifted gears and the car died.
After about 20 minutes, it became clear that Belovedest was running late. They drove off, and I tried one last time to get into gear. Ah. Haha. Ha. Hahaha.
Belovedest scheduled a tow to the mechanic, and a new appointment. Bless them for their brain.
On the day of the tow, the unexpectedly Jesus-y truck arrived with two dudes, who I shortly dubbed "Brawn" and "Brain" based on an exchange between them and Brawn going, "See, I'm the brawn and he's the brains."
With the fond belief that maybe it just took a professional doing it, they essayed to give my poor little companion cube a jump with their special power bank, which was the size of a particularly thick chocolate bar. I objected on the grounds that we had already tried jumping it, and in any case I was not comfortable driving the thing based on its little performance the last time we tried to jump it.
The boys blithely ignored me and hooked up the battery bar.
"Look, it says 75%!" the one guy said encouragingly.
"That's our battery, not her* battery," said the other. "We're going to have to shove it."
"That's why we make a good team," the first guy said reflectively. "He's the brains. I'm the brawn."
So Brain popped off the little cap to the side of the gear shift and compelled it to shift into Neutral, and they shoved it away from the curb so they could attach it to the tow truck.
I got a few calls from the mechanic somewhat later. The first was a baffled call about why in the fuck this currently anonymous (I can't get plates until I pass emissions) car was here. I explained that there was an appointment for tomorrow at 9am.
"Oh, [Belovedest]," the mechanic said. "So we have seen this X-Box before."
"No, not that one, we've got two," I explained.
With that sorted out, I waited for the next call, which came in the morning. The battery was fine, after having charged for 6 hours. The alternator, however, had an open circuit.
So I got a new alternator.
Call #3. While they were in there, two belts were kind of crispy. And it would save labor costs to do them both at once.
Call #4. The car was ready but the sway links on both sides needed work. Unrelated.
Belovedest texted me about that, because they were also getting communications.
The car was ready the next morning. I paid for the fix and started it with some trepidation.
It started. It ran.
It shifted into gear without a flicker.
I drove home on surface streets, carefully but with increasing confidence.
Next, we're looking for a day when my brain, health, and sleep cycle will allow me to venture forth to start on the paperwork to allow me to move it in order to get the next emissions test.
Whee.
The other weekend, Belovedest had made paired appointments for us at their mechanic. The car had become inoperative after the last battery replacement and attempt at emissions testing (which failed due to a sudden check engine light).
The symptoms were similar, and indicated that this new battery was not serving up enough electrons to turn on the "door open" light, let alone turn over the engine.
So the plan was to jump mine off Belovedest's (their car is a different color and a different year than mine, but otherwise the same make and model, which is cute) and have us both drive to the appointment.
The cables were produced. A charge was applied.
The car started!
Belovedest took off the cables. The dash lights flickered, but went back off.
I shifted gears.
The car shuddered to a halt.
We tried again.
We left it running for five minutes hooked up. Same result, except this time the dash lights did not all go off as the car rallied from having the umbilical removed, not until I shifted gears and the car died.
After about 20 minutes, it became clear that Belovedest was running late. They drove off, and I tried one last time to get into gear. Ah. Haha. Ha. Hahaha.
Belovedest scheduled a tow to the mechanic, and a new appointment. Bless them for their brain.
On the day of the tow, the unexpectedly Jesus-y truck arrived with two dudes, who I shortly dubbed "Brawn" and "Brain" based on an exchange between them and Brawn going, "See, I'm the brawn and he's the brains."
With the fond belief that maybe it just took a professional doing it, they essayed to give my poor little companion cube a jump with their special power bank, which was the size of a particularly thick chocolate bar. I objected on the grounds that we had already tried jumping it, and in any case I was not comfortable driving the thing based on its little performance the last time we tried to jump it.
The boys blithely ignored me and hooked up the battery bar.
"Look, it says 75%!" the one guy said encouragingly.
"That's our battery, not her* battery," said the other. "We're going to have to shove it."
"That's why we make a good team," the first guy said reflectively. "He's the brains. I'm the brawn."
So Brain popped off the little cap to the side of the gear shift and compelled it to shift into Neutral, and they shoved it away from the curb so they could attach it to the tow truck.
I got a few calls from the mechanic somewhat later. The first was a baffled call about why in the fuck this currently anonymous (I can't get plates until I pass emissions) car was here. I explained that there was an appointment for tomorrow at 9am.
"Oh, [Belovedest]," the mechanic said. "So we have seen this X-Box before."
"No, not that one, we've got two," I explained.
With that sorted out, I waited for the next call, which came in the morning. The battery was fine, after having charged for 6 hours. The alternator, however, had an open circuit.
So I got a new alternator.
Call #3. While they were in there, two belts were kind of crispy. And it would save labor costs to do them both at once.
Call #4. The car was ready but the sway links on both sides needed work. Unrelated.
Belovedest texted me about that, because they were also getting communications.
The car was ready the next morning. I paid for the fix and started it with some trepidation.
It started. It ran.
It shifted into gear without a flicker.
I drove home on surface streets, carefully but with increasing confidence.
Next, we're looking for a day when my brain, health, and sleep cycle will allow me to venture forth to start on the paperwork to allow me to move it in order to get the next emissions test.
Whee.