MY PAL PAULA

It was a near perfect visit:  Dinner on the porch, with a glass of vino, only coming inside when it was time to put the kettle on.  Then hot tea, dark chocolate, and more conversation, not giving up and going to bed until I realized my voice was giving out on me.  Sleeping in the next morning, then our traditional swapping of book stashes, which led to more talk, talk, talking, then walk, walk, walking on our new hike & bike trail, and finally, lunch on Mima's patio.

Eventually, she had to go.  I waved goodbye, came in to go to the bathroom, and settled down at the computer.  A moment later, the phone rang.  "Hey Becky, guess you're wondering why I'm still sitting down here in your driveway."  "Actually, I figured you were halfway home by now."  Turns out she has a dead battery, or so she thought.  But the little AAA guy that came out said "Nope, it's mechanical."  Major bummer, since the only reason she drove her hubby's big honkin' truck was because it was much newer, so less likely to have problems.

Anyhoo, we call Toyota, and a guy named Bruce claims he can fix the problem via phone.  He says he can work magic.  We don't believe him.  He has her try to crank the engine, and he listens to it.  Then he tells her to hold her little lock/unlock gizmo (which he calls The Silencer) at different points around the vehicle and under the hood (which we don't even know how to open).  "Now click it", he says.  "Did you hear a beep?"  No, no beep.  Then things start to get hairy.  He has us digging for spare parts in the glove box, looking for the fuse panel, pulling things out, plugging other things in.  He keeps telling us to look for a black wire that "doesn't look like it belongs there", and pull it out.  We pull out the only one we see.  It's the wrong one.  Then we can't get it back in.  I'm not sure who is going to cry first -- Paula, or Bruce.

Just in the nick of time, we see John turning into the neighborhood.  He gets on the phone with Bruce, and a minute or two later, Paula is on her way home.  Turns out it was The Silencer itself, that was keeping her engine from turning over, and it only needed disconnecting.  In our defence, however, it was a red wire, not a black one.  Guess ol' Bruce really can work magic.