Let me tell you about a two day ordeal that started with me trying to get a nut off and finished with balls in my mouth.

First off if you laughed at that first line…you’re good people.  Your head is in the gutter and I can definitely get along with you guys.  If you thought the first line was appalling…you’re good people, too; only this form of good people are innocent humans of pure thought and strong moral compasses.  I can get along with you, too…just know if I laugh at any joke you say it’s not what you said…I’m making fart noises in my head…fart noises are funny.

Anyway this two day ordeal involved me attempting to perform my own auto repair and as you can tell by the solution to the equation in the title…I suck at it.

This isn’t to say I’m totally inept at vehicular mishaps.  I have quite the resume at resolving auto issues, thank you:

1. I’ve fixed two flat tires on my car.  Granted this was after I had to call my dad to help me when I got my first one at 16…same thing happened when I got my first period…wait, what?…
2. I replaced a burned out turn signal.  This was done while Lodge Bar hungover on a Saturday morning…no small task, mind you.  Society was lucky I had pants on for that.
3. I’ve repaired a headlight that popped its socket.  Sure, I only taped it in place with black duct tape that matched the car, but that’s just ingenuity…and style!
4. I’ve located bad smells in my car many times.  I’m so good at it you can call me Senor Stinky…actually, don’t do that.
5. I have put air fresheners all over the inside of Altima Prime.  Yes I melted one of the plastic holders in my heating vent one winter, but for those seven minutes the car was a spring meadow in April.

So you see Senor Stinky I have done some real car improvements when needed.  On Tuesday, however, I met my match.

Altima Prime (my beautiful 1998 Nissan Altima) has had battery issues for a few months now.  I could tell you it’s because the battery was over five years old and needed to be changed, but I’m sure it was the time someone drove me to Giant Eagle on a beer run because I was too drunk to drive and too lazy to walk the 900 feet to the store, I didn’t shut the door all the way when we came back which proceeded to drain the battery and made it not start the next day…tomato/tomato.

Anyway I ended up getting a battery for Christmas from my dad’s girlfriend.  It was a very nice gesture and I was truly grateful.  I wanted to install it right away, but the 10 degree temperature outside quickly struck that notion down.  “I’ll just wait until the weather gets warm and then I’ll change it!” my illogical brain told me.  That’s like not fixing a leak in your house during winter because the water will just evaporate when summer comes.

As the weeks past I kept shuddering when the ignition kept sputtering until finally a global warming miracle happened!…it’s 60 degrees in February!  “Here it is!  I’m gonna successfully replace my battery today” my crazed, delusional brain told me.  “It can’t be that hard!”  After work I got home, watched a YouTube clip on how to change a battery, felt very confident by how easy they made it look, grabbed my tools and got started.

Here’s what failed to register in my head: the car in the video was brand new, there was a professional performing every task and a Bryan Fraker was trying to change my battery…all valid concerns (especially that last one).  Here’s how the process started:

Five minutes of looking at the battery…rewatching the video…seven minutes of staring…taking off the positive clamp (which apprently you shouldn’t do because that may cause an explosion…I’m just a bad-ass)…five minutes of staring at the negative clamp…failing to get the nut holding the clamp tight off…one minute of swearing…failing…two minutes of swearing…failing…five minutes of swearing…one final failure…and cursing Henry Ford’s name.

At this time my roommate Dan arrived home.  After explaining to him what the issue was through my angry clenched jaw he took the tools and started to work.  “If he gets this,” my steam-shooting brain said  “I swear I will fly to Japan, go to the Nissan headquarters, find the guy who designed this battery system, take this 3/8” wrench, dip it in hot sauce and shove it up his a…”

Dan couldn’t get it.  “You got lucky Poopy-Nissan-Engineer-I’ll-Never-Find.”

After still more staring a man walking his dog came by and asked what the problem was.  In my head I told him very eloquently “I’m having some difficulty removing this nut from the negative clamp of my car battery…would you happen to possess the knowledge to remedy this predicament?”, but I’m sure what came out was “CAR BAD!!!  THINGIE WON’T FALL OFF OTHER THINGIE!!!  HELP!!!!!!”

Luckily he understood Caveman talk and proceeded to help.  He brought out all sorts of sockets, WD-40 to loosen things up and even a wrench made for car batteries…nothing worked.  After some last ditch hammering at the clamp we were about to give up when he pulled on the cord…and it came off.  “Take that Poopy-Nissan-Engineer-I’ll-Never-Find!” my overly smug brain said.  I reached down to pull the battery off…didn’t budge.

Right as I was about to look up the prices for non-stop flights to Japan and ways to quickly rust 3/8” wrenches I noticed there was a metal bracket holding the battery in place.  There was only one nut (That’s What She Said Moment! in three…) holding it in place (…two…) , but in order to reach it I thought (…one…) “I need a 9” extension to go into the crevice and properly screw this thing” (THANK YOU!!!…I’m here all week!)

Upon seeing this and realizing none of our tools could get the job done my kind neighbor went to his place and I was left by myself.  With three hours of work put in I had: a disconnected battery, a broken negative clamp and three possible ulcers.  Needless to say…no bueno.

Somehow I was able to put the negative clamp back on, but whenever I turned turn on the car the clamp would pop off.  When I would try to put the clamp back on the battery my car alarm would go off.  So in order to successfully start the car I was required to manually lock every door, hook the battery back up and with the alarm blaring run to the passenger side and unlock the door since the driver’s side keyhole no longer works…or what I call the AP Shimmy.  Simple, right?

The next morning I did the AP Shimmy and drove to work…all the while kissing and rubbing the steering wheel hoping the battery wouldn’t disconnect causing the car to stop on the highway and making me the person everyone hates on traffic reports: the stalled car in the middle of traffic causing miles upon miles of gridlock because the driver’s an idiot.

By the grace of God I made it to work.  Afterward I drove to the Sears where the battery was purchased.  I dropped off the car, explained the issue and walked to the mall nearby.  To kill time I bought a boxing video game for Xbox (yes…normal Xbox…cutting edge of technology I am), a clearance rack Browns “Huddler” (knock-off Snuggie) for my dad because I couldn’t not do it and was enjoying the 2003 BCS Championship game of Ohio State’s victory when I got a call from Sears saying they couldn’t turn the car on without the alarm going off…shocker.

I explained how to do the AP Shimmy, but it’s a lot like a volunteer performing heart surgery on someone while a surgeon talks them through step-by-step on a phone: to the surgeon it all is common sense and volunteer can understand the words and how it’s done, but doing it is impossible.  15 minutes later I got another call.  Apparently three people, including their best technician, went out and couldn’t figure it out and that if I didn’t come to retrieve the vehicle they were going to set it on fire and pee on my shoes when I arrive…ok they didn’t say that last part, but I’m sure they felt that way.

I went back to the shop, took the keys, performed the AP Shimmy and walked back inside thinking “WHAT NOW, BIATCH?!?”..but in reality I sheepishly gave them the keys and stood in the corner away from the men as I played Scrabble on my iPod not making eye contact because in this situation…I’m their biatch.

30 minutes later they changed out the battery, fixed the broken negative clamp, had a laugh at my expense in the back (I bet), told me the gasket flask lid doohickie mobobber is cracked and it’s drenching the serpentine belt.  After taking my arm and leg as payment I was on my way.  Since I was in my dad’s neck of the woods I suggested we go to dinner.  He said let’s go to Jed’s Fireballs and Brew.  I giddily agreed.

Jed’s has these Fireballs that are bits of chicken breast covered in wing sauce and topped with your choice of toppings.  They are incredible and there are many choices for topping your balls.  I go with the Coneyballs (coney sauce, mustard, onions and melted cheese).  I proceed to fork the Coneyballs in my mouth one-by-one, happy everything was over.

My two day ordeal started with trying to get a nut off, finished with balls in my mouth and gave me what every man wants in life…a happy ending.