Thing 189 Replace A Car Battery

I know this is ground already covered, but I feel I can't state it enough. I hate the NCT. Mine's tomorrow. It's the repeat after the week before last gave me and epic fail, but a great chance to see what the insides of my car looked like up front. Now I think I'm a proper mechanic, because I once saw the inside of my car engine, so I decided, in the spirit of The Project, not to shell out to replace the battery, but to buy one, and replace it myself. This is massively unwise considering I spent twenty minutes trying to find the place to put the motor oil before the last failed test.

Because I'm not mechanically minded, I'm pretty sure most garage repair men can see me coming from a mile away, with a giant sign on my head that says "tool with a wallet". They then proceed to lighten that wallet to the best of their abilities. Not this time. No sir. I've got this one covered. I'm all over it like Token Northy on cake (zing).

Speaking of which, I should really be more grateful. The man offered to help get the battery in. Pony Boy also lent his expertise. And The Frenchman rigged up a light when it got dark so we could see what we were failing terribly to do.

Here's the background: Morgan, my car, was bought in 2007. Since then, I've spent more money on repairs than I did on the car originally. Re-selling is going to be fun. I can't lie, so anyone who asks will be told that I hate that car, and that it's a curse... not exactly and awesome sales pitch. An epic fail on the last NCT led to three hundred euro worth of repairs. The next time I sat into the car to drive it anywhere, it refused to start. Pony Boy pushed it down a hill and got it moving, but the following morning it refused again. So.... new battery it is. And I'll just call up that mechanic my mam and da know and have him pop over and install it...

Or will I...

Stupid Project preventing me from being lazy and taking the easy way out.

Open the bonnet. Unscrew the battery clips. Tug at the battery. Hit it with the rubber end of the pliers. Tug at it again. Push it. Pull it. Hit it again. Stop. Reach into the car with one very uncertain hand and drag at the bottom of it. Nothing. For thirty minutes it's me and Pony Boy bashing at the thing like Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson in Zoolander while The Frenchman looks on and tries not to laugh.

Right. Push it up the hill and into the driveway because we need some light.

Hit it with another pliers. Tug at it. Notice after ten minutes that there's a bolt all the way down at the bottom holding the battery in place. Feel stupid. Grin sheepishly at each other. Undo the bolt. Lift the battery out. Feel stupid again for a minute.

Pop new battery in. Electrocute Pony Boy a little by accident. Tighten the holders. Force the lid down... turn the key in the ignition. HOOOOORAY!!! The sound of a running engine. Get out. Feel proud. Stand there with greasy dirty hands hoping someone will come by and notice that we've got greasy dirty hands, the bonnet's open and the engine's running. Manly.

The terrible thing about your car is that it's never as complicated as you think it is. All it takes is a professional kludger like Pony Boy and a badly made lamp.

Now I know how to replace a car battery. Excellent Project, teaching me important junk about things and stuff.

I went back inside. Picked up my phone which The Frenchman used to take some photos. Realised that it's completely dead and wont switch on.

Ah well. Something gets fixed, something else gets broken. There's no way I'm trying to repair that bad boy though...