I was riding the 47 bus into Downtown this morning, glancing over the shoulder of the guy in the seat ahead of me as he was playing Pokémon GO (as was I), when my phone rang. It was Phillip.
“The car’s dead,” he said.
Assistance from Better World Club was on its way, and Phillip had taken the day off to care for the car.
As I went into Westlake Station, I remembered the $900 computer replacement that time the Big Red Triangle appeared on our dead car.
I also remembered back when I wondered if we could exist without a car. That was back when Flexcar was the only car-sharing company in town. I couldn’t imagine trusting our transportation solely on one company’s whims. Nowadays, there are three different car-sharing companies in town. We don’t drive much, but when we need a car, we need a car.
When I emerged from the Transit Tunnel later, I sent Phillip a text message, asking for details. (I figured texting would be less interruptive than a phone call. He was dealing with stuff.)
Our car was still at home. It turned out to be just a dead battery. The car was running again.
Phillip and I agreed that it would be best for him to drive our car to the Toyota dealer, in case it was more than just a dead battery.
A $100 diagnostic later, our 13-year-old car checked out fine.
Phillip are are both thinking it’s time for a new car.