Gentle Readers,
Dear Rory's car, Thurston, has been a bit of difficult beast to deal with always. After pouring thousands of dollars into his repairs and mantience in the past few months(we want to keep him healthy). His heart (the battery) decided to die.
Dear Rory's car, Thurston, has been a bit of difficult beast to deal with always. After pouring thousands of dollars into his repairs and mantience in the past few months(we want to keep him healthy). His heart (the battery) decided to die.
The words are best told in my husband's story:
Oh Thurston, why do you have to be such a little bitch?!
Today was a fun one! After discovering that his poor little heart had given out (dead battery), our friend Randy tried to give him a jump in the garage today, to no avail. It's also not possible to simply buy him a new battery and swap it out, as his computer requires calibration to the new battery via BMW's diagnostic tool that full service shops utilize.
So it was obvious that he would need to be towed to our regular mechanic, which in and of itself isn't a huge deal. A quick call to roadside assistance was made and after informing them that he was inside our building's garage with limited access for tow trucks, I was reassured that one of the proper sized trucks would be dispatched to scoop him up. Instead, what looked like a 40' platform truck arrived.
Well, alrighty then, we can make this work. After I single handedly held 4 lanes of traffic up on Clayton St, he was able to back into our driveway. The next fun move was getting Thurston out of the garage. If only I knew how much fun that was going to be, I probably would've just given up then and decided against ever driving him again.
As I eased into the driver's seat and placed him in neutral, the friendly (/sarcasm) tow truck driver positioned himself at the hood so that he could start pushing him out while I steered. This had just begun when the tow truck driver disappeared from my view in a flash and I realized we had some sort of a problem on our hands. I quickly put the car in park and upon approaching where he used to be standing I realized that he had slipped in some accumulated oil/grease from Thurston's engine and was now howling in pain with lacerations on both of his arms and an alarming amount of blood beginning to run from them. I quickly ran to the trunk to retrieve a roll of paper towels (pro-tip: ALWAYS keep a roll in your trunk for just these kind of accidents) so that I could fashion makeshift bandages which were secured with a roll of scotch tape from my mobile office supply kit.
It was at this point that a friendly neighbor parked farther in the garage (and who we were now blocking not only with Thurston, but with the tow truck driver's platform truck in the driveway) began to voice his displeasure with his path being blocked. Apologies were thrown about and we resumed our project of removing Thurston from the garage, which was highlighted by the fact that there were now 2 large bloody handprints on his hood from where the tow truck driver was pushing him backwards. I managed to complete the 90 degree turn out of the garage without incident, but due to the grade of the driveway and our current speed, it seemed prudent to apply the brakes and have the tow truck driver complete this part of the process.
I probably should've warned him that I was going to brake, but the windows were rolled up and without a battery, it certainly wasn't possible to roll them down, so brake I did. Evidently it was a little harder than I thought, because I then saw the tow truck driver's hands slide up the hood, smearing his bloody handprints as the car came to a rather sudden stop in the driveway with his face grimacing at me through the window shield.
With the car in park, we now changed places, but not before I had wrapped the steering wheel in more paper towels and covered the hood of the car with them so that I could resume the pushing part.
It was during this process that another neighbor, approaching from Clayton St. joined in the chorus of neighborly displeasure at her lack of access to the garage, but at this point I was kind of done with apologizing and may have forgotten to do so.
The rest of the event went off relatively smoothly, with the tow truck driver spending the next 15 minutes very methodically securing Thurston to his truck for the drive to our mechanic. The neighbors loved this part!!!
Once Thurston was properly buckled in for his high-flying ride to the mechanic, I once again stopped 4 lanes of traffic and he began his journey towards a new heart.
I know that I've made fast and furious friends with 2 neighbors that I've never seen before and hopefully, never will again.
So the take-away from all of this is you can never have enough paper towels and you should always keep at least a roll or two in your trunk!
(not pictured, the pile of bloody paper towels that I removed from the car steering wheel, car hood and driver's arms before giving him a fresh roll for his drive to the mechanic.)
Today was a fun one! After discovering that his poor little heart had given out (dead battery), our friend Randy tried to give him a jump in the garage today, to no avail. It's also not possible to simply buy him a new battery and swap it out, as his computer requires calibration to the new battery via BMW's diagnostic tool that full service shops utilize.
So it was obvious that he would need to be towed to our regular mechanic, which in and of itself isn't a huge deal. A quick call to roadside assistance was made and after informing them that he was inside our building's garage with limited access for tow trucks, I was reassured that one of the proper sized trucks would be dispatched to scoop him up. Instead, what looked like a 40' platform truck arrived.
Well, alrighty then, we can make this work. After I single handedly held 4 lanes of traffic up on Clayton St, he was able to back into our driveway. The next fun move was getting Thurston out of the garage. If only I knew how much fun that was going to be, I probably would've just given up then and decided against ever driving him again.
As I eased into the driver's seat and placed him in neutral, the friendly (/sarcasm) tow truck driver positioned himself at the hood so that he could start pushing him out while I steered. This had just begun when the tow truck driver disappeared from my view in a flash and I realized we had some sort of a problem on our hands. I quickly put the car in park and upon approaching where he used to be standing I realized that he had slipped in some accumulated oil/grease from Thurston's engine and was now howling in pain with lacerations on both of his arms and an alarming amount of blood beginning to run from them. I quickly ran to the trunk to retrieve a roll of paper towels (pro-tip: ALWAYS keep a roll in your trunk for just these kind of accidents) so that I could fashion makeshift bandages which were secured with a roll of scotch tape from my mobile office supply kit.
It was at this point that a friendly neighbor parked farther in the garage (and who we were now blocking not only with Thurston, but with the tow truck driver's platform truck in the driveway) began to voice his displeasure with his path being blocked. Apologies were thrown about and we resumed our project of removing Thurston from the garage, which was highlighted by the fact that there were now 2 large bloody handprints on his hood from where the tow truck driver was pushing him backwards. I managed to complete the 90 degree turn out of the garage without incident, but due to the grade of the driveway and our current speed, it seemed prudent to apply the brakes and have the tow truck driver complete this part of the process.
I probably should've warned him that I was going to brake, but the windows were rolled up and without a battery, it certainly wasn't possible to roll them down, so brake I did. Evidently it was a little harder than I thought, because I then saw the tow truck driver's hands slide up the hood, smearing his bloody handprints as the car came to a rather sudden stop in the driveway with his face grimacing at me through the window shield.
With the car in park, we now changed places, but not before I had wrapped the steering wheel in more paper towels and covered the hood of the car with them so that I could resume the pushing part.
It was during this process that another neighbor, approaching from Clayton St. joined in the chorus of neighborly displeasure at her lack of access to the garage, but at this point I was kind of done with apologizing and may have forgotten to do so.
The rest of the event went off relatively smoothly, with the tow truck driver spending the next 15 minutes very methodically securing Thurston to his truck for the drive to our mechanic. The neighbors loved this part!!!
Once Thurston was properly buckled in for his high-flying ride to the mechanic, I once again stopped 4 lanes of traffic and he began his journey towards a new heart.
I know that I've made fast and furious friends with 2 neighbors that I've never seen before and hopefully, never will again.
So the take-away from all of this is you can never have enough paper towels and you should always keep at least a roll or two in your trunk!
(not pictured, the pile of bloody paper towels that I removed from the car steering wheel, car hood and driver's arms before giving him a fresh roll for his drive to the mechanic.)
Love,
Dear Rory
Dear Rory
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