When I Write My Book

I am gonna put this story in there. In my book. When I write it. After I do all the other things on my GIANT "list of things I would love to do but will probably never get around to doing."

The boy is well. Finally. I am not a fan of fevers, and the one that hit him was way too high and stuck around way too long. But, he is better and enjoying soccer camp this week.

The "story" I am referring to involves my car. It was possessed. Really.

On Friday night - when the boy's fever was at an all-time high - I decided that I was talking him to the doctor. Urgent care, ER, something. I wanted some answers, and I wanted a medical type person to tell me that my thermometer wasn't lying.

We got into the car, and I turned the key.

GGRRRNNNNNGGRRRRWHHIIIINNNWWEEE.

That's the sound my engine made as EVERY SINGLE LIGHT on the dashboard came on. It looked like Christmas in my front seat. And that sound? It was LOUD.

I turned the car off and did what anybody in the same situation would do. I tried it again. 'Cause you know - cars will miraculously heal themselves if you turn the key enough.

GGRRNNNNNGGRRWWHHIIINNNNNEEEEEE.

At this point, a HUGE thunderstorm began to rumble all around us. HUGE.

I got out of the car. (The boy - by now - has run back inside for safety. Not from the storm... from the car.)

I closed the car door and began to walk away. All of a sudden, the headlights came on. By themselves. On bright.

And then the horn began to blow.

BBBBBBLLLLLLAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR.

I am not making this up. I promise. I covered my ears as best as I could and reached in through the open window to turn off the lights. They wouldn't go off. They wouldn't even dim. The horn kept on blowing.

Did I mention that all this is taking place in my garage? Where sound is MAGNIFIED?

Thinking I can kill it at it's life source, I sent my feverish child running to a neighbor's house to ask if he could help me disconnect the battery.

By the way, both my father and my husband have trained me well. I know how to change a tire. (Don't wanna have to actually DO it, but I know how.) I know how to check my oil and other important fluids. I even know how to call the repair shop. However, I was not trained in car demon possession. Nor battery disconnection. Truthfully, I just wanted a witness in the garage with me in case it began to transform into a giant alien robot.

In the time it took the sick child to run out across the lightning streaked yard, the horn went off. And then back on.

My neighbor came out, listened to my wild ramblings, and went back into his house to get a wrench. And probably a good stiff drink.

We got the battery disconnected, and no one was struck by lightning.

In all the chaos, I noticed the boy was DRIPPING sweat. His fever had broken.

We didn't go to the doctor that night. We sat in the house and called a tow truck and the Jeep dealership service department. I took 4 Advil. And we waited out the storm. It was a doozy. The storm.

As a nice ending to our evening, the power went out.

I promise I don't make this stuff up. Here's the little booger on it's way out the next morning.



The car has been healed. Apparently, when a battery is dying, weird electrical things can occur.

The boy has been healed. Thank the Lord... and the makers of Zithromax and Advil and Tylenol. And the makers of Gatorade. And popsicles.

And the power came back on in time to cool off the house so we could sleep.

I really am gonna write a book.