I'm not completely hopeless when it comes to cars. My dad taught me to change my own break pads on my camaro when I was 17. I know what spark plugs and pistons are, and understand their functions. However, when it comes to jump starting a car with a dead battery, I'm completely hopeless. iPhone to the rescue!
When the hubby deployed, I told him I would start his truck a couple of times a month so that it wouldn't be dead when he came back. And I did it... at first. I know it only takes a couple of minutes but I'm lazy. What can I say? So after a lovely conversation with my dear father, I decided it was once again time to start the truck. I put a fresh battery in the alarm clicker thingy (hey, I never claimed to know proper terminology) and headed over to the garage we rented on the other side of the apartment complex. I open the garage door and push the disarm button. Nothing. No beep. Shit. I try the door, and it opens (thank you Jesus). I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing. Fuck.
So I call my neighbor/coworker/friend and ask him if he owns jumper cables. He does, and is home, so he drives his car over and helps me hook the stuff up. Yay iPhone!!! According to my research, it will take a while (that was the technical measure of time multiple websites gave) to charge it from being completely dead, and if you accidently touch the clamps to one another, you will not die. It will hurt badly, but it will not kill you.
So we get the truck started, and I am advised that it is a good idea not only to let it run, but to drive it. Okay, I get as far as my apartment, and it dies again. I open the hood and wait for Friend to come, and during the time that I'm leaning up against my truck with the hood open, not just one, but two guys see me and don't offer any assistance. One is the carpet cleaning guy (understandable) and the other is a neighbor who stops is truck, gets out and throws some trash in the dumpster, says hi, gets back in his truck and leaves. Okay, whatever. Friend comes back and jumps it again, and tells me to take it on the freeway. I get as far as the turn lane at the intersection outside my apartment complex and it dies there. Fuck fuck fuck. I call Friend again, who says he'll be right over. I can't even turn the hazards on because, duh, the battery's dead. So I wave cars past me who are pulling up behind me and wait. Some guy passes me in the opposite direction, slows down, and shouts out his window "You're fucking lights are off!!" I yell back "I'm broken down!!" and he speeds away. Fucking douchebag!! What kind of an asshole do you have to be to yell at someone like that?!? I was so caught off guard that I couldn't even form the word douchebag at the end of the sentence, but regret not doing so. He deserved it.
So we got the truck going and I decided to call it for the day. We jumped it the next day and let it charge, and I drove it for a bit just to make sure. Now I really am going to drive it to keep it running. For real. I mean it...