My Kind of Luck

Yesterday evening got VERY interesting.

Shawn had to work slightly late, so I picked up Mason at the usual time and went with him to get Breadsmiths (because extra basil was coming in the CSA box and we had plans to have pesto with a baggette.) After that, we parked in our usual pick-up spot at the southeast entrance to the history center. We were there ten minutes early or so, so I switched the car into "lock" and listened to the radio and snoozed, while Mason played pokemon on his DS in the backseat. Pretty much life as usual.

When I see Shawn coming out, I sit up and try to fire up the engine. I get the WEIRDEST sound instead. I should note at this point I have NEVER run down the battery in this car. That is something I have done a thousand times before (sadly), but always with a different car, so this sound sounded... well, BAD. Not your typical "whir, whir" of a starter not getting enough juice, but like "flappity, flappity -- OMG something is seriously loose and wrong!" (I think the engine actually said that last part to me subliminally.)

At any rate, the car would not start.

I have always had used cars so we began the usual process of, "Okay, well, I'll call a taxi for Shawn and Mason and plan to wait for the tow truck, and..." But Shawn's boss came out the door, heard the engine weirdness and said, "That sounds bad. Do you need a ride home?" (He lives not but a few blocks south of us, actually.) So, I sent Shawn and Mason home with him, and called AAA.

Triple-A was probably the most frustrating part of this story, if only because it was so very clear that I was talking to someone not from St. Paul. I was at the HISTORY CENTER. It's not a difficult building for most native St. Paulies to identify. You may have never been there in your life, but if I said, "John Ireland Boulevard and Kellogg" most people would have a pretty good idea where in St. Paul I was talking about. I even HAD the exact street address and explain that given the size of the building the driver should probably know what part of the building I was closest to. But she had no idea what I was talking about. When the local shop called back, however, it was pretty simple.

Then I called my friend Sean M. Murphy to see about getting a ride to Wyrdsmiths later that night. He said he was "nearby" (turns out he was just being kind, bless his soul,) and would come hang out with me until the tow truck came. This cheered me no end because not only do I hate waiting, but also because my cell phone battery was dying and I was glad to know that, in an emergency, I could borrow his.

He showed up and less than five minutes later so did the tow truck.

Here's where the awesome begins.

The tow truck guy instantly recognizes the sound as a dead battery and gives me a jump. He checks the alternator and the battery and pronounces the alternator fine, but the batttery WICKED old. So I drive myself (with Murphy following) to my mechanic, Grand Sinclair I. There the guy hems and haws about whether or not they might have my battery in stock (I have BEGGED them to try to fix it tonight, or I was going to drive myself to a car store and buy my own dang battery), but he says, "Well, we might have one around" pointing to the seven pathetic looking batteries on a tiny shelf.

Murphy, meanwhile, who has this superpower, had gone out to the boulevard and found (I kid you not) a four-leaf clover. He slaps in on the counter while the receptionist is off getting the mechanic and tells me, "They'll have the right battery." Frankly, I believe him. I've seen him use this Irish magic before to win prizes and all sorts of things. Sure enough the mechanic comes back, looks up the battery size, and the other guy finds it... the second to last one on the shelf.

They tell me they'll have it done in a half hour or less (as they're finishing up the last car of the day.) So Murphy drives me to pick up my CSA box (I'm the second to last one there) and we have him over for bread and pesto. He drops me back off at the garage right before leaving for Wyrdsmiths, and less than 130 bucks later (they didn't even charge me for labor, which is why I love this garage) I have a working car again.

So, it was a series of unfortunate events, but weirdly lucky all at the same time.

I didn't finish my short story, but I did get a rejection of a reprint that I'd sent off to Fantasy Magazine. This weekend I plan to have it done, so I can really start focusing on the new Tate novel.

Today, however, I may have to mow my boulevard as my neighbor is taking advantage of the sunshine to do that and I don't want to look like the one long-haired freak, as it were.