Path: bloom-picayune.mit.edu!enterpoop.mit.edu!snorkelwacker.mit.edu!americast.com!americast.com!americast-post Newsgroups: americast.twt.life From: americast-post@AmeriCast.Com Organization: American Cybercasting Approved: americast-post@AmeriCast.com Subject: Penalty high for assault on battery Date: Tue, 24 Nov 92 14:12:10 EST Message-ID: Lines: 127 \SE E;LIFE;KNOTT NECESSARILY \HD Penalty high for assault on battery \BY Tom Knott \CR THE WASHINGTON TIMES The car recently got over the flu. Unfortunately, it was the $824.47 flu bug that is going around. Alex of the Gold Team was the attending physician who would telephone each day with the bad news. He was sympathetic yet committed to curing the patient. "Taking two aspirin and drinking plenty of fluids is not going to do it," he would say, or something to that effect. "Are you ready?" Gulp. Sigh. "How serious?" "Well, we replaced the coil, but that didn't work. Now we're going to replace the distributor." Car doctors are like that. They talk in clinical terms and expect the average person to follow along. Coil? Distributor? He might as well as have been speaking Latin. Most drivers know to put the key into the ignition and turn it to the right. After that, it gets pretty tricky. I probably should have known I was in trouble the day the doctor identified himself as Alex of the Gold Team (the name he goes by). Why couldn't it have been Alex of the Recycling Team? Or Alex of the Tin Team? Or Alex of the Cubic Zirconia Team? But, no, it was Alex of the Gold Team. It wasn't his fault. You tell yourself that anyway. Intellectually, you tell yourself, "It's not as if Dr. Gold is trying to make the car worse than it already is. It's not as if he has anything to gain." Well, yes, more money. But Dr. Gold seemed pleasant enough. Caring. All that. Each day, he would telephone with an update, and you would wage the good battle in your mind. He would explain and commiserate. You would cringe and whine, all the while envisioning a diet of bread and water. Anything for the car, though. The best. This went on for eight days, and to think it all started because someone forgot to turn off the headlights one misty morning. Ms. Someone has a master's degree in education but is functionally illiterate when it comes to automobiles. Go figure. She usually limits her shortcomings in this area to losing the keys. Nearly everyone in town has a set of keys to the car except her. So it started with the old knock-knock-no-one-home routine. You know what happened next. Right. Dead battery. Extremely dead battery. Simple enough. Or so it was thought at the local emergency room. "We'll replace the battery, and you'll be on your way," he said. It sounded like a promise. Small problem. The car still didn't start, new battery and all. New diagnosis: "Have it towed to your dealership." And it was towed, to Alex of the Gold Team. The days passed, with the meter running. An estimate of $170 became $289. Of course, the $289 estimate quickly became $400-plus. Soon, $400-plus became $600-plus until the grand total of $824.47 was reached, including the $40 towing charge. Along the way, many experts were interrogated for their insights, including friends, neighbors, grocery-store clerks, people hanging out on street corners and someone by the name of Tom Wimmer, the service director at Paul Brothers. Mr. Wimmer was put on retainer to translate Dr. Gold's carspeak. His interpretation: "What Alex of the Gold Team is trying to say is that you're with the Impoverished Team." Another thing, too. In Dr. Gold's opinion, somebody messed up, big time, as he made clear at the bottom of the sales slip. His conclusion: ". . . appears to have been jumped with reverse polarity." In other words, the dummies at the first place, in apparently trying to jump the old battery, fried the electrical system. "You know, placing negative on positive," Dr. Gold said. "You mean that happens in a place whose business is cars?" he was asked. "It can, and it does," he said. "You'd be surprised." "How do you prove something like that?" he was asked. "It's tough," he said. And it remains tough. The car is back in the driveway, ready to roll, but it needs gas. Ms. Someone of the Impoverished Team will be moving out if she ever finds the keys to the car. The dog, whose ribs were broken recently after accidentally getting in the way of a foot, can't find the keys, either. Meanwhile, the daily ration features bread and water. It just goes to show you what can happen when you mix a positive with a negative. This article is copyright 1992 The Washington Times. Redistribution to other sites is not permitted except by arrangement with American Cybercasting Corporation. For more information, send-email to usa@AmeriCast.COM