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The Lincoln Saga

A few posts back, I teased Chet for not being able to start his car. But then I stopped laughing when wiggling the wires and checking the oil level wasn't doing anything. And neither was jump starting it. Changing out the relays wasn't helping either. Chet wasn' t acting like himself. He paced nervously around the house, sitting down to google something, then going outside and trying something else. He called this place and that place and no one seemed to have a cure for his Lincoln. I told him to calm down. He told me he couldn't because he needed the car tomorrow. I realized that and started to panic myself.

The plan was that he would have Dan G. come over and help him tow the car to the auto shop on the other side of the highway. I would be working and six children would be left in the care of his brother. It sounded like an okay plan. By bringing in the vehicle, we would pay $42 for a diagnostic and know exactly what was wrong with it.

I sat down to eat my supper at work and called home.

"What's going on with the car?"
"Oh, we've taken apart the back seat and put it back in and now we are about to replace the fuel pump."
"Uh... Are you sure that's what's wrong with it?"
"No, but we have a pretty good idea."
"Chet! I thought the plan was to tow the car into the auto shop. Now you're probably going to spend all night tearing apart the car, breaking things that weren't broken to start with and it's probably not even the problem! Men! Seriously! Pay the $42 and bring it in! And who's watching the kids? What are they doing? I'm in serious panic mode here."
"Calm down, babe. We have it all under control."
"You better. If not, I'm coming home."

I paced around work for a couple hours. I shook my head every time I thought about it. I imagined the car in fourteen different pieces sitting by the garage and a car doctor shaking his head as he takes off his mask, telling Chet there's nothing more he can do and to say goodbye. I pictured the house in complete shambles, kids hanging off chandeliers and eating speedy bugs.

I called again at 8pm.

"What's going on?"
"Oh, we got the fuel pump in but the car won't start."
"You're kidding."
"No, so now we have the battery hooked up to a charger to see if we wore out the battery trying to start it."

I resisted the urge to say "I told you so" but told him to text me when it was working.

At 10pm, still no text so I called.

"Do I dare ask how it's going?"
"Car's running and I'm putting the kids to bed!"
"They're JUST going to bed NOW?!"
"Yeah, and the car is fixed."
"Oh, the car is fixed? Yippee! Are you sure?"
"Uh, I drove it around the block and it starts fine."
"You are awesome. Ok, thanks, bye, love you."

So the car works and the kids are fine. What was I so worried about?

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