I have a Mercedes cls500. The battery is dead (don’t know why yet). Owners manual is in the electronically locked truck, so I can’t get to it it figure out where the battery is even located. I can’t seems to open the rear trunk with the key for some odd reason. and I can’t finding anything about it on the net.
First of all, when I said that I wanted clever little nicknames at the end of these letters I wasn’t joking. Matt, you’re now: “Matriculated in Michigan.” I don’t know what matriculated means, exactly, and I don’t know if you live in Michigan, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.
Secondly, I love it when I get letters like this, that obviously have a time limit. I do Ask Dave! on Fridays and got this letter on Sunday. If you’re really in need of my advice, you’ve been locked out of your car for five days now. Worst case scenario, you’ve been stranded at home, with no way out, slowly watching your food supplies dwindle as you repeatedly press the F5 button on my page, waiting for my divinely inspired answer to your problem.
Fortunately for you, I’m sure that’s not the case. I’m sure you ended up calling the dealer and asking what to do, and possibly paid an exorbitant amount of money to get it jump started. Then you put on your designer sun glasses and drove off to your job in Detroit as a high powered executive at an international “Construction Company,” which is really a CIA front and you were able to ship out on time for your black ops mission in the Sudan. *phew* One less warlord to worry about.
I do feel, however, that an incredibly vague and somewhat insubstantial metaphor can be drawn here in regards to the runaway speed of technology for technology’s sake. Don’t you find it odd that a luxury automobile that’s so wired up, costs so much and has so many features, is rendered completely helpless when the battery runs out?
Anyway, here’s my advice to you, Matriculated. Get a donkey. A burro, if you will. In these days of uncertain fuel supply and a rapidly diminishing ozone, what better way to lessen your environmental footprint than by employing the sturdy legs of man’s eighth best friend? (Donkeys used to be tied for seventh with pigs, but since they like to bite and can’t find truffles, they were demoted to eighth in 1836)
Look at that little guy! He’s sooooooo cute. They are way better than cars. I mean, sure, it’ll take you about a week to visit your mother in Cleveland (she left Detroit in 1994, couldn’t stand the winters), but think of the kitsch value here! Bonus: All donkeys come with a waterproofed leather exterior, standard. They also run on apples and belly rubs.