One time when I was like 11 my dad and I were in Ohio buying fireworks bc that’s what you do when you live in Michigan, you have to buy the good ones out of state. Anyway. We get back to the car and it’s super dead. Won’t even turn over. No lights, nothing. He tries all the regular stuff and can’t figure out the issue. We’re there for like an hour at this point. So I tell him on a whim to try the key while I look and he does and I hear this faint ticking sound so I make him stop and I dig under the hood until I find the fuse box or w/e and he turns it over again and I find one that I can literally feel ticking to I yank it out. He’s like “huh well shit. There should be a fuse panel in the trunk??” So I crawl in the trunk and I find the fuse with the same serial number and just. Switch them out. And the car started fucking fine. And it never happened again. I was 11 while he had been an auto mechanic for like 40+ years at this point and I figured it out and let me tell you how much of a bad bitch I felt like