fail blog #2: bride of fail

The flight home from Australia was reasonably good, as these things go, so I was feeling quite calm and competent when I found Hedwig in Long Term Parking. I should have recognized this as a Sign That I Was About To Do Some Impressively Stupid Things.

Hedwig didn’t start when I turned the key, and didn’t start, and didn’t start. I walked down to the cashier and they sent a guy up to give me a jumpstart. I turned the key. She didn’t start. She didn’t start.

“Let me try,” said the guy, and she started the first time.

“You need to push the clutch down,” he said, and I blushed so hard I thought my face would catch fire.

I slammed down the hood without realizing that jump start guy had left the battery cover to one side, over the latch. The latch caught in the hole in the top of the battery cover. You couldn’t open the hood with the battery cover stuck there.

So we drove home like that, with Hedwig looking like she had half-eaten a piece of moulded plastic. It took the mechanics at Jerry’s to break the battery cover in half and throw it away.

The whole time I was thinking about how much Big would laugh at me over this. He did, but he added:

“Next time you get off a fourteen-hour flight you should just treat yourselves to a taxi.”

I thought that was uncommonly kind.

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