Out of Juice (HH)
#67 of Hockey Hunk Season 6
OUT OF JUICE (HH)
*
Welcome to the Hockey Hunk!
It has been a very long time since the previous chapter. I had this chapter started months ago, but I have lacked the drive to finish it. A lot has been going on, healthwise, familywise. I lost my grandmother and the preparations for a funeral and the grieving process have taken their toll. But life goes on, and art goes on. I have been doing a fair amount of writing lately, and more and more is coming off the keys every day. I am finding more joy from the work again, in creating, writing, making things happen on paper.
I am immensely grateful for your support. The knowledge that my writing can still make a difference is an important driving force, and a source of enjoyment. Thank you!
I aim for one chapter a week of the Hockey Hunk now, posted on Mondays at the usual time. Hopefully this will be an attainable goal, for the moment. I'll have to see how it turns out.
In the meantime, enjoy the read, comment, vote, fave, spread the word that Rory is back - I hope to make a good thing here.
Cheers!
*
"Hmm...thought so," Tate Michaels said.
I suspected that the verdict on my car was to come now.
"What is it?" I asked. I dreaded the answer.
He tapped the wrench against the battery and little green bits of something crusty fell off from the metallic battery connections and to the top of the plastic battery container.
"I bet that's not supposed to look like that," I said.
"Nope," he said. "The terminal is pretty corroded."
"Is that why it won't start?" I asked.
"Probably," he said. "Bad contact, poor charging...no go when you hit start. There's just not enough juice left in the battery. Even if it looks it's charging, the battery is only getting part of the power it's meant to get from the alternator."
I leaned in for a closer look at the suspicious mess the battery had made, and snorted.
"It's like when you have those regular batteries in a flashlight or a portable radio for too long and they end up like this, isn't it?" I asked.
"Pretty much," the fox said.
"Hal had a battery do that inside one of his penlights a few weeks ago," I said. "He wasn't amused."
The fox's ears did a flick, but since he hadn't seen or heard how Hal turned the air blue, he probably was not getting the full picture of how funny that was. Hal cursed like the proverbial sailor and surely made her wife's very Christian family very uneasy, wherever they were. They probably knew that sort of things.
"Well this one's done it now too," he pointed at the battery again.
"I'll be damned!" I muttered and shook my head heavily. "It's not even an old battery! I had it changed to a new one when I bought this car used. It was only a year and a half ago! I remember that the guy at the shop said that it's maintenance free!"
"It's not uncommon," he said. "Even these sealed batteries leak a bit either way, because they're designed to vent any gas the battery might produce when it's charging."
My ears dropped down. If this was truly the failure that had stopped my car from working, it was a calamity of highest order. Not only it was annoying, but it was also possible that I had been fooled even earlier on by selling me a bad product. Tate Michaels did sound like he knew what he was talking about, and showed it as well. The way how he managed to take it all apart with just a socket wrench and a screwdriver from my tool kit had convinced me of that when he started to investigate the car.
"Am I going to need a new battery?" I asked. Not a terrible financial hardship by any means, but it was still a nuisance.
"Not necessarily," he said. "I've seen much worse ones that still put out good juice once the terminals are changed, or at least cleaned properly."
I huffed.
"So there is hope?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"Probably. I can try to clean it up and then we'll just have to hook the terminals back in and see if it starts. If the battery hasn't discharged, it might give enough juice to start the car. Then you have to run the car for some time to make sure that it gets a proper charge."
That sounded hopeful. At least it appeared to mean that I could drive the car to the shop to get it fixed properly instead of having it towed.
"Can you do it?" I asked.
That would probably save me so much time and effort, maybe some money, too, but that wasn't as important. I just wanted to get this thing sorted out as quickly as possible. I needed my car!
He shrugged.
"Sure. I just need the right stuff for it," the fox said.
He put the wrench down and turned over to investigate the selection of my tools.
"What do you need?" I wanted to be helpful, especially since he had already done so much to help me. "I don't exactly run a fully equipped garage here, but I have some things."
"Some kind of a steel brush would be good," he said, "though I could start with an old toothbrush, if you have one lying around."
"I actually do!" I yelped. "I've got one in the bathroom, for cleaning the sink."
"That'll do," Tate said. "I also need baking soda."
This was getting more and more MacGyver-like by the moment. Lacking in such expertise myself, I decided to enable him.
"Oh? What for?" I had to ask.
"It works in a pinch, when mixed with water," Tate said. "Less likely to ruin anything if it spills, too."
"Like a detergent?" I asked.
"Yep."
"Hmm... I think my mother used it for that sometimes," I recalled. "We'll have to go by the kitchen to fetch these supplies."
He flicked a curious ear, but nodded.
"If you'll take me there," the fox said.
"Of course!" I smiled.
*
I had to admit, he really knew what he was doing. With only a toothbrush, the baking soda, a little bit of water and wearing my dishwashing gloves, Tate Michaels resurrected my car after what amounted to perhaps half an hour of scrubbing and scratching on that wretched battery. Once the cables were back in place and I was in my car, the engine started after only a brief stutter.
"It's alive!" Tate Michaels announced. He stood there, watching my engine go, with the hood still open.
I hit the gas a few times and the engine revved up and made a shrill noise, with no gear on to slow down the revolutions.
It was kind of satisfying to hear.
"Seems to be!" I called from the open door of the car.
"Are all the lights okay?" the fox asked. "Any alarms?"
I looked at the dash and saw only the indicators that were meant to be there.
"Nothing wrong here!" I said. "I presume it's charging again!"
"Good!"
The hum of the engine was reassuring.
"What do we do now?" I yelped in question.
"Just let it run for a little bit longer!" he answered. "Gives it a bit more juice in case it's been draining the battery!"
"Alright!"
It wasn't a really environmentally friendly a thing to do, but for the lack of other battery charging equipment, it was what I could do for now. We didn't got at it for very long, though. I'd only need enough power to get the car started once, and then whatever driving I did would do the rest. Hopefully that trip would not take me to the nearest car repair shop.
I took out the key and stepped from the car. Tate was pulling off the gloves in his paws. They looked quite dirty by now, after the magic he had done on the battery.
"You better get washed properly," I noted. "All those chemicals and all that grease and grime."
His sleeves had a few smudges on them as well, I noticed. The gloves hadn't given him complete protection. Tate glanced himself over and nodded.
"Do you have a sink here or something?"
"No, but there's everything you'll need in the kitchen, soap and whatever you need," I said.
"Alright."
We didn't have to brave the weather this time around. The rain was still going on, but the door into the house provided safe passage. A couple steps and a turn past the pantry was all that was needed for us to emerge in the kitchen. I began to unbutton my outdoors work coat.
"I better wash myself too," I said, "then I'll need something to drink. Would you like coffee, tea, sparkling water, juice, anything?"
Tate looked indecisive.
"If it's not any trouble," he said.
"Of course not!" I smiled. "We need something to drink after all that."
"Yeah, sure," he said. "I could use coffee."
"Splendid! Unless you're very busy, of course," I told him, "I'm not sure I asked you properly whether you need to elsewhere, and I certainly have already stolen a lot of your time."
"Nah," Tate said. "Only have to update my diary."
"Your diary?" I wondered.
"I have to write a study diary about everything I learn every day," he replied. "It's not a lot, just a few lines every day. I've got it on my computer."
"Oh, I see!" I mused. "Sounds very modern. Didn't have to do anything like that in my day."
"Guess things have changed," he said.
They must have. That felt odd to say. He wasn't much younger than I was. He might not have been a boy, but I wasn't an old man yet and neither was he. Barely out of his youth, although with the gait of an older man because of his leg. I had not heard the entire story behind it, but I could imagine what it entailed.
I took out a bottle of good liquid soap in a pump bottle dispenser from the cabinet under the sink.
"This should do it. Can I go first so that I can start on the coffee?" I asked.
"You're the boss."
I lathered myself good and spent so much time under the tap that my pads probably started to prune up. I was still toweling myself by the time he took my previous spot. Tate needed it more than I did, since he had done most of the dirty work. He was still washing himself away when I started the coffee and proceeded to scavenge for something sweet to offer to my surprise guest.
"Hmm...looks like my son has eaten the cookies..." I stared at the empty spot where the package had resided as of yesterday.
"You don't have to make a fuss," he complained.
"No, no..." I fussed anyway. "I'm sure there's something here..."
I opened another cupboard and made a pleasing discovery. Even if the cookies were gone, I could at least go for something salty.
"Ah!" I pulled out a plastic bag. "Some bagels! And I think they're still good!"
A quick sniff into the carefully closed then opened bag told me that to be the case.
"Just going to need some cups and plates..." I mused. "I'm afraid I don't really have anything to serve with them...I'm starting to look like a really bad host, I apologize for that."
"I wasn't asking for anything," Tate said. "It's fine."
"You've gone for so much trouble for me, it's the least I can do!" I complained.
He swallowed his complaints and reached for the paper towels, his washing done.
"Do sit down, you must be tired, " I gestured at the little dining table. "Everything will be ready soon."
Perhaps I was fussing despite my pleadings to the contrary, but he did not appear to mind. He sat down and minded his own business while I made the snack preparations. There was not much to it, considering how simple my offering was, coffee and bagels. At least Tate appeared relaxed. He sat on one of my chairs and was looking at the object affixed to the wall by the door into the hall.
"Ah," I said. "that's the mezuzah."
He glanced at me curiously. I looked over at the item he likely considered to be just a piece of decoration. It was by all means a beautiful artifact, brass and painted images of fruit and vegetables - appropriate for the kitchen. Only the Hebrew writing on it made it stand out from being just a slightly kitsch wall ornament. Of course my mother had bought it for me, in an attempt to make the house a bit more suitable in her mind.
Looking at Tate, I could tell that when it came to me telling the name of the item, I might have as well sneezed.
"It's a...eh...it's a reminder," I explained, "well, a covenant...whatever you like to call it. There's a little scroll inside it with lines from the Torah - the Bible - written on it, including the order to hang the Lord's words from your doorposts. And that's why I have one of these here."
It was hard to tell what he made of that. At least he nodded in agreement, that he had heard what I said.
"I have two," I said, "most people really only have one, on the front door. Some like to have them in every room of the house, though there are rules about that."
"Rules?" he perked an ear.
"Depending on just how Jewish you are exactly," I said," there's things about the floor area of the room, and whether you enter via a door or a trap door...hatches don't count as door so an attic only needs one if you enter through a ladder on the floor...and bathrooms are exempt too, no matter how grand they might be."
The fox digested this.
"I guess, if it's...I mean, it's a holy symbol, right?"
"More or less, I suppose," I conceded.
Tate nodded.
"Then I guess it would be like hanging a crucifix in the toilet," he said.
I flicked my ears.
"A what?" I asked.
That was rude of me, but I couldn't help it. The look on his face...
"Sorry!" I snickered. "I just had to."
I laughed again.
His ears dropped.
"Oh..."
I chuckled on my way to the coffeemaker.
"You know my partner Hal," I mused, "you can imagine how many times we've had conversations like this. He fancies himself a real Mel Brooks sometimes."
Now he chuckled, just a little.
"Even I know who that is," he said.
I smiled as I poured the coffee.
"I didn't mean to speak in riddles," I said, "I saw your curiosity and wanted to explain it."
"Thanks," he said. "I guess I wouldn't have paid it another thought if you didn't."
I put the coffee pot away and took my seat.
"I do not contemplate it much myself," I said, "my mother bought it and gifted to me. I think she hoped to make this house a bit more..."
I felt myself at a loss for words momentarily before the suitable expression finally arrived to my lips.
"...ah...Jewish," I decided.
"I see," the fox said.
"But the overall result is similar to...ah...hanging a giant flag outside your house to make your home more American?" I proposed.
"I think I get what you mean," he said. "You'll just end up looking like a giant dick."
I chuckled.
"That must be the effect," I said.
"But I guess they don't make those...wall things in giant size?" he nodded towards the mezuzah.
I could imagine how that would please my mother. I was already laughing aloud, too. It was too ridiculous, because I could see it. I knew exactly the kind of people who would really consider such a thing so that they could stand out.
"Maybe in Israel," I offered. "It's the Jewish Texas. Everything is bigger there."
And that is how we went on.
*
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