The Most Expensive Car Battery

The most expensive car battery recharge EVER.

My first company car, a Mark I Ford Cortina, refused to start one freezing winter's morning many years ago. I rang into work to advise my boss about the situation and apologised that I would be an hour or two late.

Not a problem as I had a battery charger. Because our garage had no power and was twenty yards away across a busy road, I had to disconnect the battery to carry it back into the house to get some charge into it.

Suitable spanners in hand, I began the task of loosening the retaining nuts/bolts. Unfortunately, they were firmly stuck together, immovable.

Not to worry ‘cos I had a can of WD40 (propriety releasing oil. I liberally sprayed the nuts and left them to soak for a few minutes. Then I returned to complete the job. They were still a bit stiff, so I employed a bit of oomph! Not a good idea as the battery terminal sheared off. The other terminal disconnected easily.

Having purchased a new battery at Halfords, The staff member assured me that the new battery had a bit of charge in it, sufficient to get a vehicle to start up. I took it home, reattached the connectors, turned on the ignition and after the first whirrrrrrr ... nothing. The battery was flat. So I carefully disconnected the battery again and carried it over the road into the house to put it on charge for an hour or so. It was time to telephone my Manager to explain the further delay.

Two hours later, with the battery now charged and reconnected, I turned on the ignition, and the engine fired and swung into life. Success!

I got out to retrieve the tools and drop the bonnet. Just as I closed the car door, there was an enormous clashing sound over the sound of the still-running engine. What on Earth???

At first, I couldn't work it out. Where were my spanners? I found them on the ground under the front of the engine. As I reached for them, I felt water dripping onto the back of my hand under the bumper. I retrieved the spanners and searched for the leak. I wondered about switching the engine off, but would it start again? Then I spotted where the water was coming from. There was a hole in the back of the radiator. So, I switched the engine off. Only then did I spot the damage to the fan blade. There was a chunk of metal missing from its leading edge.

The vibrating engine block had dislodged the spanners from the top of the radiator. They had dropped onto the rotating fan. One of the spanners hit the fan and was propelled into the radiator at great speed.

I telephoned my boss again. His somewhat sarcastic response was, "Come and see me in a day or two's time when you get things sorted."

So, after having the car recovered to a garage, they fitted a new radiator and fan. I collected it two days later, now operational again.

"Another time," my boss said, "please call out the AA."

I never again tried to repair a car.

That's a lie! Twenty years later, my wife's Citroen Avantage needed an oil change. It wasn't worth paying for a service because she had put on such low mileage. "I'll do it," I confidently offered. "It won't need a new oil filter, so I've just got to drain the old oil and fill up with whatever oil is recommended in the handbook".

Following the direction in the handbook, I got under the car and drained the oil after removing the sump plug. I was a bit surprised that I didn't need all the containers I had assembled in readiness. Then I bought the gold spot oil that was specified; I had purchased and poured it into the oil filler cap. It overflowed rather quicker than I thought, and I wondered why I hadn't used all the oil I'd purchased.

I thought, job done!

The next day my wife made a short journey to the shops in town. When she returned, she complained that the car was making strange noises. I drove it around the block to see if I could identify the problem. There was a definite graunching sound. I had no option but to call the local garage for assistance. The following day the mechanic returned the car and reported the car gearbox had been almost dry. He refilled the gearbox and detected no further problems.

When I explained what I had done, he burst out laughing. "You didn't drain the engine. You drained the gearbox."

I showed him the handbook. "There's your problem," he said. "When you're under the car, you are looking at it from a different perspective. The gearbox sump is in front of the engine, closer to the front of the car than the engine sump. Shall I top up the gearbox and change the engine oil for you?"

By way of explanation or self-justification, my father would not show me how to maintain any car or motorcycle in my teen years. "You'll earn your living using your head, not with these," he said, holding my hands in his worn and calloused hands. Well-intentioned? Perhaps, but that is why I'll now attempt to repair almost anything except a car.