I bet you can already guess what happened too.
This “auto parts” store is famous for having chrome goodies and pretty shit all over the fucking place.
Apparently battery cables aren’t sexy enough for these fucking idiots.
It’s a pretty major parts house too.
I went in, looked around, found their piss poor selection of cables and thought to myself, here we go again.
I wanted a positive battery cable for my El Camino.
Red, about 24 inches long.
Umm, no, apparently that would be out of the question but thanks for looking.
They had two, count ’em, two fucking positive battery cables on the shelf, both of which had those chinsy fucking thin assed wrap around “clamps” that last six months.
One was forty eight inches long, the other fifty eight inches long.
I want a battery cable, not a fucking tow strap.
So I asked the guy behind the counter if that was all they had.
No, we have more in the back room, the “PREMIUM” cables.
That means way the fuck over priced to you civilians.
OK, I need a positive cable two feet long.
“All of our “PREMIUM” cables are black”.
A moment of stunned silence followed as I tried to comprehend the absolute fucking stupidity of this policy and who could be responsible for this lunacy.
What, I’m supposed to spray paint the fucker red or something?
They are red for a reason there Clyde.
No thanks, I’ll just make my own ,all I need is the clamp.
Oh, we have the materials for that too he says.
So he goes in the back, brings out some fucking red spaghetti they called bulk battery cable.
I asked him if they had solder pellets to melt the ends on with instead of crimping them.
No, they used to but nobody bought them.
Then he goes to look up the ends I need but has to have help finding the fucking catalogue.
He types in the numbers and lo and behold they DON”T EVEN HAVE THE MOTHERFUCKING BATTERY CLAMP IN STOCK!!!
At this point I am all done with this clusterfuck.
That’s almost as much fun as the time I went in to another place I call ‘Schmucks” to get a fucking one barrel carburetor for my old Ford truck.
After a half an hour of this poor, ignorant, fresh out of High School young lady fumble fucking around without a clue, she looks up from the parts book and asks me if I have a two volt or a four volt carburetor.
That was a face palm moment I will never forget.
Of course by then there were ten other guys behind me grumbling about how long it was taking. The joke was on them.
So tomorrow I will go to NAPA like I should have done in the first fucking place and get a fucking battery cable for a 1980 Chevy.
It’s not like they were some rare exotic handmade fucking automobile for fucks sake.
You would think a retail sales company that claims to be an auto parts store would have something like that, wouldn’t ya.
Naw, they used to stock ’em but nobody ever needs a red battery cable, right? Idiots.
The wife is always giving me a hard time about all the shit I have out in the garage. Half my shit is still in storage in my Uncles barn. I can guarantee ya, I have the materials to build a red fucking battery cable between the two, including the damn solder pellets,because I have run into this shit before.
To her, it’s just crap and clutter.
To me, it’s independence and convenience tossed on a bench or in a box.
I am slowly getting shit organized into drawers and proper containers.
She can’t understand why I would buy twenty five feet of heater hose when the job at hand only requires two.
Why do I need a dozen heater hose clamps or a hundred feet of 14 gauge red wire and a dozen different kinds of automotive fuses?
Because, as in this case, the motherfuckers at the parts store don’t have it when I need the sonofabitch and they close at five o’clock on the days they are open anyway.
How many times have I needed a stupid piece of hose or a clamp and see it is 4:45?
Too God damn many, that’s how many.
I mean that kind of stuff falls into the category of shop supplies. The shit that a guy should have on hand for general purposes.Duct tape, electrical tape, penetrating oil,nails, screws etc.
Just because I call it a heater hose clamp doesn’t mean I can’t use it to fix a washing machine hose or a garden hose.
Like them Boy Scouts always say, be prepared.