When the battery in my amazing car died this morning, I really couldn't believe it, which is why I phoned my husband at work because (for a brief two months more), he is able to order one of his minions to come and help me with jump leads. I had been waiting for the painter to arrive as we finally have access to our new flat and need to fix it up to rent out. He was late and I had been listening to the radio, ignition on and, unbeknownst to me, my headlights full on (there was a sea mist earlier) for about twenty minutes. Normally, my car yells at me to switch the lights off when I open the door. Of course, if you don't open the door.... The point of the story is that the technician took ages to find the battery. My car began to look as if it was about to be thoroughly valeted as it eventually stood with the bonnet (hood?), trunk and all the doors open and the back seats' innards exposed. To no avail. As the mechanic stood metaphorically scratching his head and loath to ask advice back at the garage, I thought I could help, remembering that I had two car manuals in the glove compartment. Huh - much use they were. One was a 46-page tome on how to work the radio, and the other - 36 pages on how to work all the dials on the dashboard. Nowhere was there any mention of anything practical like where the battery was located. Eventually, it was found in the very last place he looked - under the mat at the driver's feet, next to an impressively large and colorful array of fuses. I also spied a useful drawer under my seat which proved to be duplicated under the passenger seat, presumably a hideaway for valuables. I've only had the car for 5 years. I suppose the moral of the story is that you should thoroughly get to know anything you buy.