The Battery

Battery, a tactical artillery unit in the military but in this instance, I mean a battery of a different kind.

The coolness of autumn was setting in and with it, more worry as my due date was quickly approaching.  There was one thing I depended on more than anything else --my car!  If I didn't have transportation to/from post, I'd have to move back into the barracks.  And then there was that little um --situation of getting close to my third trimester and as I said, I was kind of just planning on driving myself to the hospital.  I was alone.  I was used to taking care of myself.

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was going to the commissary to do a little shopping.  Though fall was upon us, it was still a warm day and I was HUGELY pregnant.  I got in my car, turned the key and---nothing.  Dead.  Now as far as any sort of mechanics go, all I knew about cars was turn the key, make it go.  I was absolutely clueless.  And I was poor, too. 

When my car wouldn't start repair/mechanic bills started swirling through my mind and that was only if I could managed to get the car towed.  I laid my head down on the steering wheel and did what any strong, independent, well trained soldier would do *ahem*.  I cried.  After  few sobs and realizing the tears weren't going to start the car, I tried to pull myself together.  No matter what, I just had to have this car up and running by Monday or I'd not be able to report for duty.  A little thing the Army calls AWOL.  With absolutely no experience or knowledge to back my theory, I ventured a guess I might need a new battery.  Actually, I hoped upon hope that's what it was because other than that, I was in deep trouble.  I prayed for wisdom--prayed for guidance.  I went back up to my apartment and thought about what I should do.  I lugged out the ol' Yellow Pages --I mean, the big thick printed kind, got the number for a cab company and proceeded to call myself a taxi.  I then went back outside to wait for my ride.

I took the taxi on base to the gas station which also had a very small auto shop.  I walked in and told the guy I needed a new battery.  He asked me questions, all of which I was clueless about and then I realized, he was pretty much as clueless as I was.  I walked over to the shelf where the batteries were.  Hmmm, this one looks big, this one looks bigger.  This one looks --woe, too expensive and this one looks --just right!  I lugged it over to the counter, wrote a check for the $50 purchase and was on my way.  I had asked the taxi to wait for me --cha-ching, he was all too happy to keep the meter running.  Since the battery was so heavy and my stomach so big, I had to carry it down at arm's length, feeling it bump against my thighs as I walked.  The taxi driver never offered to help.  I proudly set my new battery in the seat next to me and asked the driver to take me back home.

When we pulled up in front of my apartment, the taxi driver never offered to help me with the battery. I had to first get myself out of the taxi then lean over, big belly and all, and drag the battery off of the seat and lug it over to my car.  I paid the driver and there I was; me, my battery and my car that wouldn't start.  At this point, I had no idea if the battery was even the problem.

I set the battery on the curb next to my car and I was really feeling all alone.  The Army had forced me into some pretty unfeminine roles/duties but this right here --this whole battery business was way out of my league. 

I don't remember exactly what I did from here.  I do remember it was very difficult to bend down (belly and all) to pick up the battery.  I struggled with it for some time.  I popped the hood open, took out the old battery, hooked up the new and --1, 2, 3 . . .started the car and . . . .

Such sweet music to my ears --she was purring like a kitten!  I then took the old battery and tossed it into the fenced-in area where we put the trash.  I figured the garbage man would pick it up.

Week after week, every time I took out the trash I saw the battery still sitting there.  I figured the garbage man was just too lazy to pick it up. 

It was about a month or so later when SSG Newsome came to Kansas and I told him all about the battery --he informed me it was illegal to throw batteries in the trash.  He also informed me the battery was fine --it just needed water.  Water?  I had no idea!  He said, "So, you never put water in the battery?"  Good gracious, it was all I could do to remember to put gas in the tank!  When he looked at the battery in the car, he was amazed I even got it in.  Apparently, I had gotten one way too big for my car and over and over he kept asking me, "How did you even lift this thing?" 

I don't know but one thing is for sure, there was a band of angels watching over me. 

Or mabye that's a battery of angels.