It was a beautiful Monday morning in May as I walked out to my Chevy Equinox parked on the slab of concrete beside our big barn.
The birds were singing, turkeys gobbled in the distance and a bobwhite quail was calling for a mate.
Coffee travel mug and briefcase in hand, I climbed into SUV, buckled up, stepped on the brake and pushed the start-engine button.
Nothing.
I tried again to no avail, then popped the hood, secured it open and grabbed the jumper cables from the back. About that time, my husband was wheeling the battery charger out and took over.
I know how to do it, but was grateful that I didn’t have to worry about getting my clothes dusty before heading to work where I had meetings scheduled later in the day.
It was only a year ago that I had the battery replaced, so drove to the tire and battery shop that had taken care of it last March.
In a matter of 20 minutes, they had checked the battery and the alternator and assured me all was well, there must be something slowly drawing on the battery and scheduled an appointment for me to come in Friday morning for a two-hour test.
I drove the 30 minutes to my office and parked. I worked three hours, drove to a lunch appointment 10 minutes away, parked, had lunch and drove back to the office — no problem!
At the end of the day, I drove to the nearest grocery store, spent 10 minutes inside and when I came out, the Equinox wouldn’t start.
I asked for a jump from a couple in a pickup truck who were happy to help so I could make my 40-minute trek back home.
We left the battery on a trickle charge through the night, but it still needed a jumpstart in the morning before I headed to the local dealership where I had purchased my vehicle four years ago.
I had called in advance before the shop was open and spilled the whole story to the man who runs the service department. He gave me keys to a loaner vehicle, and I was out the door in three minutes.
Not an hour later, the kind mechanic at the dealership called to tell me I needed a new battery. How could that be? The battery shop told me the battery was fine.
He assured me his service department had conducted the tests and I needed a new battery. He had some in stock and could fix me up, but I told him that the battery I’d purchased was under warranty and the shop that sold me that battery and told me said battery was not bad would need to make good on the warranty.
It’s a long story, I know.
This is the part that matters: the man at the dealership who had taken my call half an hour before the service department opened, had given me keys to a loaner vehicle so I could be on my way and had updated me as soon as he knew something — drove my Equinox to the shop where I had purchased and had the battery installed a year ago, had them test it again and install a new battery and had it ready for me to drive away when I arrived after my workday had ended.
That serviceman/mechanic/rock star had invested a lot of time in my problem and kept me updated every step of the way.
He was kind. He was patient. He was a problem solver. He went above and beyond.
The dealership charges $110 per hour for labor. My bill was $32.
That man single-handedly won my loyalty to that dealership for life. Thank you, Clayton.