Saturday night when we left the Halloween party downtown, Bonnie, Our Knight In Shining (Silver-Cloth-That-Sort-Of-Looked-Like) Armor and I walked to my car to leave. I got behind the wheel and the car wouldn’t start. I tried again. Nothing. It didn’t even make that click-click-click sound a car makes when the battery is dead.
Bonnie and Jack start going down the list: “Did you leave your lights on?”
“No, they turn on and off automatically.”
“Did you leave the inside light on?”
“No, even if I did, it shouldn’t have drained the battery in six hours. This is a Toyota. Toyotas don’t do stuff like this.”
Bonnie and I got out of the car and opened the hood because for some reason, we thought maybe someone had stolen my battery. It made sense at the time.
Bonnie said, “I know it won’t make any difference, but let me see if I can start it.”
Bonnie got behind the wheel, turned the key and the car started right up.
I said, “Fuck. Turn it off.”
I got out of the car, walked around to the driver’s side, tried to start the car. Nothing.
Bonnie and Jack started with the questions again. Did you do this? Did you do that? Put your foot on the brake. Put your foot on the gas. Put your foot on the clutch and the brake. Push the key in while you turn it. Don’t push the key in while you turn it. Nothing.
“I know how to start this car, dammit. I have started this car at least four times a day for the last two years. I know how to start my own freakin’ car.” However, I was beginning to have my doubts about that. I tried five or six more times and got nothing. I got out of the car and put Bonnie behind the wheel. VAROOM. It started right up.
“Fuck,” I said again.
Evidently, The Universe wanted Bonnie to drive. We dropped off Jack and when Bonnie and I got to my house, I said, “Let me try again.” Nothing.
I tried three times and one time it sounded like it would almost start then…nothing. Bonnie got in again and it started right up. At this point, our fear of carbon monoxide poisoning from starting and re-starting the car in my closed garage overrode our desire to try to figure out what the hell was going on.
Bonnie went home. I went to bed. I got up the next morning, went down to the garage and tried to start my car. It started right up. I turned it off and back on three times with no problems and I haven’t had any trouble starting it since.
What the hell?