Warm Weather, Hiking at Hardscrabble and The Hold Steady, Or, Why I Missed the 8:43 Again This Week

I missed my weekly Monday slacker train, the 8:43, last week, and was determined to make the damn thing this week.

Just before I was to head up for the shower, I noticed the answering machine blinking. That means someone either called very late or very early–never, ever a good sign.

It was the guy next door. He’d seen our tail lights on on our car, and thought we should check it out.

Thoughts of a dead battery flew around my brain. There’s never a good time for a dead battery, but this time might’ve been worse than the rest. Of course, I only need my trusty Trek to pedal to the station, but The Missus had planned a full day with Little G’s school up in Priusville closed for the day: a trip to Muscott Farm, music class (“Hellloooo, everybody!!!), other fun stuff.

I ran out to the car, and found my keys exactly where I presumably had left them the day before: not only in the ignition, but turned to the start-the-car position! [Why oh why do I feel compelled to reveal my stupidity, time and again, to a few hundred people I don't even know on this site?]

I turned the key back to the off position, and went to start ‘er up.

Deader than Dustin Diamond’s career.

I went inside to break the news to the Missus [Editor's Note: Funny how one of the Google Ads that went up based on this post was "Divorce Mediator"], and to call the guy next door. Quick note about the Guy Next Door: he’s saved our asses several times since we moved in 3 1/2 years ago, most notably, when we burst a pipe not long after moving in.

Guy Next Door (GND) said he’d be right over. I popped the hood of the car and stared in, pretending I knew what I was looking for. (Like that old comedian Jake Johannsen once quipped, perhaps a snowman who’s hat had fallen off…Here you go, Mr. Snowman! And boom, the car starts.)

GND said we had to roll our car back to the end of the driveway so he could hook his car up to ours. Alas, we couldn’t shift out of Park. The 8:43 simply wasn’t happening. I knew I needed a break to make the damn 9:16.

We cracked open the car manual and, like a pair of freshman car thieves, figured out how to pop open the transmission console, unscrew a few things, and, well, I’ll not reveal more in case real car thieves are reading this.

We got the car out of Park and rolled it to the end of the driveway, where GND had room to pull up next to our listless ride.

The initial jumper cable hookup didn’t work, so GND hooked the black pliers-with-fangs up to some other part of the crap under the hood to “ground” it, whatever that means. Bingo, our car started humming again.

I thanked GND profusely and asked him what sort of beer he prefers.

“Cold ones, outside, with the neighbors,” he said with a smile.

I assume he was talking about me, and not the nice old lady on the other side of him who recently passed away.

I hustled inside to shower and make that 9:16. As I showered I wondered how the heck I left the keys not only in the ignition, which I’ve never done, but turned into the Drive position. I could blame it on the kids–they’re always playing in the car and leaving all sorts of dials turned and switches flipped.

But no, it wasn’t Little G or Little Miss C.

I played back my last time in the car. Me and Little G had hiked at Hardscrabble yesterday. I brought my Hold Steady CD because I saw the band Friday in Ardlsey and the songs are still stuck in my head. We hit Starbucks in Briarcliff after.

When we got home, I had my coffee, my Hold Steady CD (the Missus don’t wanna hear that), Little G’s water cup, his snacks and, of course, Little G.

That might explain leaving the keys in the ignition. But not having the key turned forward.

I thought some more.

It was around 4 p.m. The Missus baked a ham, so we weren’t using the car to pick up dinner. I remember deciding to shut the windows, which I occasionally forget to do. But I’d already removed the keys from the ignition when I thought of it. I put them back in, and had to turn the car on to shut the windows. Then I got sidetracked.

There it is. Explained, if not exactly understood.

I’m locking the car tonight. And not, God willing, with the keys inside.