Of Mice And Men(acing) Car Batteries
It’s visual picture-painting time here at kerrianne.org, and kids, do I have a story for you! Everyone gather round the circle with your milk and cookies.
On second thought, you better forget the milk and cookies.
In fact, you might want to stop (thinking about or actually) eating anything for the remainder of this post.
Ready now? OK, then. Back to the story.
It was a dark and stormy night the end of a very long work day, not my favorite work day to be honest, and while there were definitely some high notes, it was mostly stressful and filled with a lot of hurry up and wait! moments, which are not my favorite sort of moments. I was also feeling easily annoyed on this particular work day, and admitted to wishing some of my co-workers would just stop, you know, existing so close to me.
So vexed was I by the time 5:45pm rolled around that after opening my car door and tossing my bags into the front seat beside me, I took a very deep breath before loudly exclaiming, “I AM SO ANNOYED WITH MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.”
Not my finest moment, to be sure. But hey, venting helps right? And venting to no one in particular is harmless right?
RIGHT. Or maybe not so much.
Right after taking another deep, post-exclamatory breath, I put my key in the ignition of my car, turned, and…wait for it…no, keep waiting…yep, still waiting…oh, right; nothing is going to happen. N-O-T-H-I-N-G, except me starting to laugh, a really crazy “Oh you’re so funny, Today! Such a jokester, Universe! No really, Car, you are going to start right! now” sort of laugh, wherein I almost started crying, because really? REALLY, this is happening to me right now, on this day, at the top of a desolate parking garage in the pitch dark when I know I don’t have jumper cables in my trunk? Of course! it is.
Never one to miss out on the opportunity to laugh at myself, I laughed some more, and then called my dad. Because that’s what I do whenever my car decides to play Ridiculous.
After some discussing of car-related symptoms, my dad decides it’s probably the battery.
“Those can just die? Without warning?”
“Yep, pretty much.”
“Awesome. I’m having the best day ever.”
“I’m sorry, kiddo. You should probably pop the hood and make sure something-something-auto-talk-I-can’t-remember-something-something.”
“Oh, OK! I can do that.” I’m pretty sure I can totally do that. So I pop the hood, walk around the front of the car and open it. And here’s where the story gets AWESOME. And by “awesome” I mean “pretty gross, and I’m telling you, you better not be eating your milk and cookies right now.”
I’m using both hands to get the hood open, cradling the phone in between my right ear and right shoulder and after I manage to do that I look instantly at the battery, on the far right of the hooded innards of my car, completely neglecting to look at anything else under the hood, until I see something out of the corner of my left eye, is that? Wait, did something just BLINK at me?
Lo and behold, on top of the engine, in a cozy bed of leaves, sat a very alive rat, the size of a basketball.*
Now, this rat did not look like Splinter, because that might have been (equally startling, but still) awesome. This rat did not look like Remy, either.
This rat was (ALIVE, meaning not fictional; did I mention? and) huge and grey and just looking up at me like “Oh hey, is this your car? I like it here. In fact I’ve probably been here for days, because see my cozy bed of leaves underneath me? It’s VERY VERY COZY.”
In fact, he looked a bit like this, but bigger, and dirtier, and BIGGER:
That’s when I (surprisingly kept my cool, and) told my dad, “Oh, there’s a huge rat in the car.”
“What, there’s A RAT, you say? In the car?”
“Yep, on the engine,” at which point said Huge Rat (let’s call him…Bernard!) decided he’d had enough of my crazy laughing because he scurried down down down into the depths of my car, but nope, I never saw him dash out from either side of the car, or out the front or back, and in fact, I’m 90% sure Bernard is still cozily sleeping on his bed of leaves atop my apparently very hospitable engine.
Apparently at some point during this fiasco my boss (who was the very last one in the office) had come out to the parking garage and by a small miracle he was also parked on the roof-top level of the garage. He also apparently noticed I was crazy-laughing next to a popped hood and so wandered over to see if I was OK. I was pretty OK. Except for the whole “My car won’t start, and oh yeah, there was a living rat the size of Hungary underneath the hood.”**
“RAT? There was A RAT? Oh, I do not like rats.”
“Well this one actually seems quite nice. I named him Bernard.”
Which of course I didn’t really say, because the moral of this story is that appearing mentally competent in front of the president of the company you work for is somewhat essential, especially when you are about to be offered a ride home.
The secondary moral of this story is that big rats named Bernard, they will pop up in cozy leaf beds whenever you are too cranky.
*I might be exaggerating a little. But I REALLY DON’T THINK SO.
**Definitely exaggerating. MAYBE.
***Updated to add this response via Twitter:
A NEST IN THE ENGINE WITH BABIES? I am so not sleeping tonight.
My kids both thought that rat was “So cute!”
Me? NOT SO MUCH.
At least you have a good car story to tell now!
I’m sorry for the battery and the rat, but DUDE. You crack me up. Per usual.
But, is Bernard OKAY? It’s mighty cold out tonight.
————
Bernard has his cozy bed of leaves, REMEMBER? My car engine has become a rat condo of sorts. In fact, tomorrow I’m totally going to tell him he owes me rent.
I already tweeted this to you, but I would have peed my pants. Or cried. Or at least named the rat “Asshole” and not something cute. Gross. Car problems + rodents = worst day ever.
HAHAAAAA. Okay, I was anxiously awaiting the beyond-140-character version of this tale, and you did not disappoint. Also: “Living Rat The Size of Hungary” needs to be a band. Just FYI.
P.S. This: “You should probably pop the hood and make sure something-something-auto-talk-I-can’t-remember-something-something.” is PRECISELY how it sounds when my dad talks Car to me, also. :)
You can sleep, just don’t sleep in your car. Cuz Bernard is totally hanging out in there.
Wait. So did you have to get your car towed or jumped or what? I need an ending!
SWEET BUTTERY JESUS. I thought these things only happened in Sandra Bullock movies.
AUGH! Skin is crawling. Rats are nasty.
A rat? On your engine? Like right there staring at you when you popped the hood? I am really not ok with this.
I was just about to tell you my story about the day when my car’s battery died… just like that, but I don’t think you want to hear it, because I think I got lucky: there was no rat, let alone a nest with babies in my car!
OMG! I thought these things were like urban myths or something! HOW DOES A RAT LIVE ON A CAR ENGINE? This could so happen to me, since I live in rat-infested Chicago AND park outside!
Also, Splinter! HA! I used to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles while eating my breakfast every morning before school. Um, HIGH school.
This story? Is so far the highlight of my morning–even after reading your tweets yesterday. This story is even better than my anecdote about Murphy’s Law messing with me as I was writing about Murphy’s Law liking to mess with me. :)
I hope Bernard is okay–and that he finds a home that is not in your car because the last thing you need is for him to suddenly pop out of your glove box while you’re driving!
I had a terrible noise in my air conditioner last month. I finally took it into the shop and apparently, I also had a rat in my engine, except that when I started my car, it … well … scattered the rat about my engine. Causing terrible noise in my car. And an ordor. And … just … ew.
So… did you get your car started once you got the rat to go away? Did you leave your car there and run screaming? (I won’t judge.) HALP. Must have closure.
My GOD, there would have been some screaming had that been my car. Also, I want milk and cookies now. And? Can I call your dad the next time my car craps out?
(Erin’s warning of Bernard popping out of the glove box while you’re driving cracked me up.)
PS Rad title.
Holy canoli, that rat image was a startling visual. Which was probably one-hundredth of what you experienced. Mine would have been the YEEK! heard round the world. In fact, it kind of was. AT THE MERE PICTURE.
awful awful awful
I also call my dad when the car decides to play ridiculous, although I’ve not yet had a rat in my engine…haha this story made me laugh, quite a bit.
Sorry I’ve been out of pocket since you posted this – I hope things have improved and that my Tweet didnt’ scare the crap out of you. The best part of the story that I couldn’t fit on Twitter – the mechanics were so freaked out, they put Saran Wrap around three sides of the car when they were removing said rat family – so that you know, in case they all decided to run amok. Honestly, it happens more than you know – hope you are safe!
Same thing happened to my dad once! He kept finding little pieces of dog kibble on the engine of his truck (which: WTF, right?) and it eventually turned out to be a hive of mice that would scurry out, steal dog food, and then scoot back in to snooze on the warm engine/mouse pantry. Eeeagh.