08:09:29 am on
Monday 15 Jul 2024

Dead Batteries
Matt Seinberg

Why is it, when you need them most, batteries die? Last night as it was snowing, we went to open the garage door with the remote control in the kitchen, and it didn’t work. I got the spare from the bedroom and it didn’t work. I did find an actual spare battery, and replaced it in one of the remotes. That also didn’t work.

In the meantime, Melissa was outside dancing in the snow, having no idea what was going on. I had to bundle up and go outside to put the code into the keypad on the doorframe. Luckily that worked, because we wanted to get the shovels out for use in the morning.

Now of course these are not your ordinary, run of the mill batteries. These are specialty batteries. You must buy these batteries at Radio Shack or on line. Yet, let’s face it, when you need a battery, you need it now, not a week from now.

The past couple of weeks I’ve been having trouble with the remote control for my car. The strange part was that it didn’t work in the morning when the car was in my driveway, but it worked everywhere else. Even later in the day, it worked in the driveway, but never the morning.

I didn’t think it was the battery until a couple of days ago, when I couldn’t even start the car just by pushing the button on the dash. I had to pry the cover off the keyhole on the steering wheel, insert the key and then push the button. This was getting very frustrating, especially when it’s cold and I’m wearing gloves.

I went on line to find out how to change the battery in this remote and save myself a trip to the dealer. The first few links didn’t apply to my remote, but I finally found one and it was too easy to be true. All I had to do was take out the key, and pry the remote open with a small screwdriver.

Low and behold, the battery was a CR2032, that small little disc battery many remotes use. I knew I had one somewhere, so I rummaged around my room and found it! After putting it in, I went to the front window and tried it. The lights blinked and the horn honked, so I knew it worked.

To be on the safe side, I’m going to Radio Shack on Tuesday and buy the batteries for the garage door.

Matt Seinberg lives on Long Island, a few minutes east of New York City. He looks at everything around him and notices much. Somewhat less cynical than dyed in the wool New Yorkers, Seinberg believes those who don't see what he does like reading about what he sees and what it means to him. Seinberg columns revel in the silly little things of life and laughter as well as much well-directed anger at inept, foolish public officials. Mostly, Seinberg writes for those who laugh easily at their own foibles as well as those of others.

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