This Never Happens

A friend called me up last night for a favor at about 9:00. She asked me if I could drive her to the West Side just to drop her friend off, and then we could head back up to the Heights. Now, normally this would be the exact opposite of problematic, but in this case, my roommate had asked me if he could use my car to visit his little friend in Teaneck. The point is that I was forced to use my other roommate's car, inasmuch as he was gracious enough to offer it. He might have gone himself, but he goes to bed early, and it was already about 9:45(!) by the time we left. Anyways, we get down to the West Side and drop the girl off, and by this time I'm getting the mad munchies. That might've been due to the conversation we had in my apartment right before we left about rolling Js. Or it might just have been due to the fact that I hadn't eaten anything since that enormous shwarma I had from Grill Point five hours earlier. In any event, I needed some junk food, so I drove us over to Duane Reade on 106th Street and Broadway. I parked and we got out of the car. Now, when I get out of my car and lock the doors with the remote, the headlights turn off automatically. I drive a 2005 Acura TL. One time I had to rig my license plate to stay attached to the car using pieces of a wire hanger. My roommate drives a 1997 Geo Metro. He has his side mirrors hanging on for dear life with pieces of duct tape. My purpose in taking that unnecessary shot at my roommate's car is to demonstrate that his car, while it works perfectly and purrs like a playful kitten, isn't as technologically advanced as mine. Az when we got out of the car and went to Duane Reade, the headlights were still on. My friend said "isn't that bad?" So I'm like, "It'll be fine; we'll be in there for five minutes." Lo and behold, we get back in the car and it wouldn't start. Kudos to the girl for not crying, because the only cure-all for crying that I know is a hug, and I'd be way too nervous to do that. Besides, she assures me that my hugging her would only result in more crying, whatever that means. Anyway, if it were my car, I would just call Acura roadside and they would be there in like half an hour and jump-start the car for free. The last thing I wanted to do was call AAA and pay them with my million dollars bill, which I printed from my computer (see SB email #88, "Couch Patch." Jesus, it's been a long time since I referenced homestarrunner.com. Incidentally, that was the first SB e-mail I ever watched). I had actually been in a somewhat similar position last year when my old roommate's sister stalled his car on the West Side. In that situation, he called all his hatzolah buddies, and after a makeshift party right there on the sidewalk, one of them took out his cables and jump-started the car. So I figured I might as well do the same thing, inasmuch as my roommate was probably asleep and wasn't picking up his phone. I had figured that maybe you had to do something special to the car when it acts up, you know like kicking one of the tires, elbowing the dashboard, and turning the ignition while picking your nose. Who knows what sorts of tricks you need to know with these 1997 Geos? Anyway, I started calling every hatzolah guy I knew (and some I didn't know). One was asleep, one was in Florida, one's car was in the shop, and two didn't pick up. By this time, my other roommate finally answered his phone, az I asked him to wake up our roommate to tell him that his car wouldn't start. He gets on the phone and says "hit 'lock,' 'unlock,' and then 'lock' again on the remote control, and then try the ignition." And it worked! I wasn't really overly surprised that it worked, but the real astounding thing was that I was 100% correct about there being some kind of trick to starting the car. That never happens! What I mean is I'm right all the time because I'm ridiculously smart and know a lot of stuff, but in my capacity as Captain Optimistic Guy, I've come to realize that things don't always work out the way you want them to, no matter how much you hope. But this time I was right! It was freakin' unbelievable. Az there we are, sitting in the car, about to pull out of the parking spot, when one of those coach buses pulls up right next to us and starts letting out a busload of senior citizens in wheel chairs. An hour and a half later (really only like six minutes), we were on our way back to the Heights. It was an almost perfect night.