Yesterday, Indi and I had a hanging-out-fest with Nikki (as an unwind from the tornadic few weeks that have been our estate sale/home rental). We went over to the Jonestead and watched movies, ordered some pizza (how I've missed you, Papa John's!), and made a trip up to Borders. I read a good deal of 'Wisdom of our Fathers' ... a collection of letters Tim Russert recieved after his best-selling book about his dad. I wept/filled with emotion as expected. We went back to Nikki's and left at about 12:30. Well, that's when we tried to leave.
Thetttt The car battery was dead.
We jumped the car, let it run a few minutes...and then it died when we tried to turn on the headlights.
Mega teh-suck.
Indi stayed over, Brad took me home, and I scooted on over this morning to get it resolved. For some reason, we thought Auto Integrity (best place in B.A. to fix your car!) was open on Sunday, but alas no. We knew it was either the battery or the alternator. We ventured forth to Autozone to have the battery tested.
Good news: it was a bad battery. Factory from '02. Bad news: the battery is underneath the air filter and requires the removal of a panel and access from the wheel well. Whee.
After about an hour and a half of wrestling (and some help from the Autozone guy) I get the old battery out. I also throw up due to heat exhaustion and the fact there was absolutely no shade. Due to my adverse reaction, Nikki and Indi asked (forced) me to rest and we sat inside El Chico (with water...and tea!) to regroup. After about an hour, we went back out and finished the job.
So now I'm home. Showered. The car battery light came on en route to home (At first I accidentally hooked the battery up wrong. The horn went off, lights came on, wipers went on...) so I either fried the sensor cable (it smoked) or there's still a problem. In either case, I'm indoors now. Wishing my years-ago heat stroke wasn't still affecting me getting overheated so easily.
Oh, and I may be getting a 1987 Yamaha Virago 535.
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