Assault by battery

 The last thing I ever expected to see was the eye-catching red battery light come on in my car.

That's never happened to me before. Ever. But here we were, on Route 421 just outside of North Wilkesboro on our way to Blowing Rock for Art in the Park weekend, and my dashboard was telling me to pull over. "Battery not charging," screamed the panic-inducing message. "Pull over safely."

Whaaa...??

I halfway expected the message to continue: "Do it now, or else!"

How could this be? My Volvo S60 is less than four years old. It has just under 23,000 miles on it. 

Kim said to pull off at the next exit and call the Volvo dealership in Winston-Salem. But whatever you do, don't turn off the car.

I rely on Kim for many things, and one of them is her rational calm in stormy seas. Where does that come from? I mean, I've already jumped off the Titanic here while she's rowing around in a lifeboat looking at seagulls and icebergs.

But I called Volvo Cars Winston-Salem and explained what was going on.

"Can I make it back to Winston?" I asked.

A Volvo alternator.

 "I don't know without doing a diagnostic," said Todd, the service manager. "It sounds like it's either a battery cell or an alternator, but I just don't know. Where are you?"

I told him we were outside North Wilkesboro on our way for a much-needed weekend retreat. I told him I was going to try and make it to Winston. He told me the car could quit on me at any time. I told him I was coming anyway. He said they would be expecting me.

So we turned around. We were about 40 miles away. I turned off the radio. I turned off the fan. I turned off the daytime running lights. Anything to save whatever charge was left in my battery.

And, lo, in about a half hour, we had arrived.

"Don't turn off the car," said Kim, and I didn't.

The service manager came out and said they would do a diagnostic, which I figured would take at least an hour as we saw dollar signs ka-chinging in our heads while stewing in the waiting room. Some vacation.

But 15 minutes later, he called us out. "Come with me," he said and I thought, oh-oh, the Titanic was going down for sure.

"We did the diagnostic," said. "It's your alternator. Somehow, the pulley unthreaded itself from the alternator and came off. This is designed never to happen. Our mechanic has been here since 1985 and he said he's never seen anything like this before. You were driving only on the charge you had remaining in your battery. I doubt you could have made it much further.

"But we have to order parts," added Todd. "It'll be Monday before it's fixed."

Then, as if by magic, the sun came out. Doves flew in. Fireworks exploded. The Titanic resurfaced.

"I see here," said Todd looking at his computer, "that you still have about a month of your car's warranty left. This won't cost you anything."

I nearly cried. I could have kissed him, but, you know, Covid. 

But there was more.

It's Volvo Car's policy not to provide a loaner unless you purchased the car from them. We bought our car from Flow Volvo in Burlington. Uh-oh.

"I talked with our manager and told him your situation," said Todd. "And he agreed to let you have a loaner. Enjoy your weekend."

The loaner was waiting for us outside the office. We took all of our stuff out of our car, and put it in the Volvo S60 that had three-quarters of a tank of gas in it. We headed off to Blowing Rock for what turned out to be a spectacular weekend and we never looked back.

Some vacation.

•  •  •

(When we got home, I Googled "Volvo alternator" out of curiosity to see how much a new one would cost. A site, Repairpal.com, listed alternators between $945-$995, with labor adding another $150 or so. My neighbor said I ought to buy a lottery ticket right now, right this minute, before it's too late. Hmm...)