I’ve got a confession to make: car batteries scare me. I have no qualms about ripping a hole in our garage to replace the rot/mouse holes or disassembling/reassembling our ceiling fan when I decided I didn’t like the color. I’m pretty confident in my ability to fix things around the house, and I’ve got a pretty decent handle on car repair/maintenance. I mean, I wouldn’t try dropping the gas tank but when one of the straps rusted through, I put the car up on ramps and changed them.
But the one thing I refuse to do is touch the battery. I have an irrational fear that touching it will make the car blow up. Not zap me, not burn me with acid, but full-blown, car-explodes-into-tiny-pieces-and-I-die, explosion. Then my husband’s car wouldn’t start. Since I had a day off before he did, I figured it was my responsibility to get him a working car. So I picked up and charger and I did what I always do when I can’t fix something- I called my dad.
Everything I know about fixing things I learned from my dad. As I kid I operated Big Orange (that’s our crane) during the engine transplant on our van, and I loved hanging out in the shop with him. Now if I were him, I would have laughed at my battery fear, but he assured me I just had a healthy respect for them. So after he answered all my questions, I hooked up the red:
and grounded the car:
and fired up the charger:
(I opted to use a charger because in my head if we jumped his car using mine both cars would blow up- yup, I’m just that rational…) and sent this reassuring text to my husband:
Unfortunately, the car still wouldn’t start, so the next day, after cleaning the terminals didn’t work, my husband walked up to the store and got a new battery. He doesn’t share my irrational fear of batteries, apparently, and we once again have 2 working cars! And while I still don’t like car batteries, I didn’t blow anything up, so I’d call this a success!
So there you have it- my greatest fear. Now it’s your turn: What are you afraid of? Anything irrational like me?