Cars make me emotional. When I have to deal with them, I’m either in despair or ecstatic. That is, of course, because I have no idea how to do much of anything with them. Recently, my car got broken into. It happened at my apartment, probably in the early, early morning hours. Hence, I have learned how to file a police report (which you can do online, by the way), report it to my apartment complex, and how to file a claim with my insurance company.
The biggest consequence of the break-in is that my window is pulled off track. I am to get it into the car place on Monday to get all fixed up, at which time, I plan to get some other necessary work done on it.
The newest angle on the saga is totally unrelated to the break-in. It’s my brake lights. Yesterday, I stopped to get some groceries after work. As I loaded them into my car, I noticed that my brake lights were on, when I was obviously not in my car pressing on the brake. I drove home and hopped out and looked at them again.
Sure enough. My brake lights were on. I tried everything I could think of to make them turn off. I turned my car on and off, I tapped my brakes, I pushed down on them hard. I turned my car lights on and off, I pushed every button I could think of.
I was worried because I knew that they were wearing down my battery. I called Nathan. I called Anna. Both of them said it was probably my fuse. Like I know how to do deal with fuses. I went down and looked for them, aiming to pull them out and put them back or something. When Katie got home, she looked at it with me and couldn’t figure it out.
On my mom’s suggestion, I decided to take it to the auto parts store nearby and see if they could fix it for me. When I went to leave, it wouldn’t start. Of course, just then is when the battery gave out. I had turned it on and run it several times of the past few hours, trying to keep the battery charged. I had to call Katie back down and get her to jump me.
Long story short, it wasn’t the fuse. A little piece inside my car had broken off, a little piece of plastic that depresses a button that makes my brake lights turn on and off. The guy at the parts store tried to improvise, but ultimately, he couldn’t make it work and told me I’d have to go get the little part from Honda. I got him to show me how to disconnect my battery when I got back to my apartment, so I could save my battery.
This morning, Nathan came over and took me to a Honda dealership. The guy knew just what I was talking about and fished the little two-dollar piece out of the storage room for me immediately. I bought two, just in case.
When we got back to my car, I couldn’t see where to stick it in. Nathan found it, though, and put it in. It worked! So now, inshallah, my car will work until Monday when it gets to go into the shop and get more work done, necessitated by the hands of rogues.
Many thanks to everyone who has been assisting me in my car misadventures, especially Allison and Nathan, and everyone else for listening to the drama.