Devil's Postpile part 2

Now it wouldn't even click.  Had I drained the battery?  I went back into Kmart and bought some jumper cables.  The line at the checkout stand wasn't too long for once.  There were two stands open with only one lady buying stuff at each.  I waited behind one of them.  A little while later another shopper got in line at the other.  Just then, three girls and midget came up who were with the lady in front of me.  They were buying Beanie Babies.  Each of them paid for their Beanie Babies separately.  The woman who got in line in the checkout stand next to me after I had gotten in line paid for her things and left, but now another shopper had taken her place.  The midget put her Beanie Baby on the counter and pulled a handful of change out of her pocket.  She dropped about half of it on the floor, and the kids all scurried around collecting it.  Thus far, the woman had avoided eye contact with me, but now she smiled apologetically and said, "I'm trying to teach them about money."
"Maybe you should teach them about waiting in line," I didn't say.  The midget, I could see now, had a touch of Down's Syndrome.  She needed a lot of help from the clerk counting her change.  Another shopper who had come after me paid and went to the parking lot, but another two people had gotten in line behind him.  Finally, I paid for the cables and walked out.  A guy in a pickup tried to jump us, but it didn't work.  I had to call the Auto Club.  My card says it doesn't expire until June of next year, but the guy on the phone said my dues haven't been paid.  He says there's a thirty-day grace period, and I guess it's not too hard to believe that this, he informed m, was the thirty-first day.  I was, however, able to renew it over the phone with my credit card number. 
A truck came out.  He jumped the Mustang with his super charger, and it started right up.  Shirelle and I got about fifteen miles out of Bishop before the car died again.  There were no call boxes anywhere.  We tried to use Shirelle's cell phone and got this total fuckaround.  You call the number, and a recording gives you another number to call and you listen to a menu, and then you get an operator on the line, who takes your credit card number, and then they give you another number to call which takes you back to the original recording. 
We tried for about an hour to get the Auto Club on the phone.  Shirelle started crying. I finally decided we would hitch a ride into town.  A guy name Scott with a snake tattoo peeking out from his sleeve picked us up.  He dropped us at a service station back in Bishop.  A local Bishop kid took us out to the car and towed  us back to town.  He needed my Auto Club info.  He called it in, and they told him it was expired.  I explained what had been going on all day with the car and that I had just paid it and should be up to date, and in fact a truck had already come out once today while we had needed a jump at Kmart.  After about twenty minutes being on hold and getting transferred around, our guy determined that the lady on the phone "had her head up her ass."  I wonder what he thought of me.  He told us they would have to run some tests to figure out what was wrong with the car, and that it would probably be an hour or so before they could get to it.  We went to a restaurant to eat.  While we walked up the street it started raining.  I paid for our meals on my credit card, afraid it would catch fire. 
Back at the service station, we learned that the Mustang's alternator needed to be replaced, to the tune of a hundred and fifty bucks.  The office was full of mounted dead animals.  Puma and bison and coyote and trout. It was after dark before we were on the road again.  It was very dark.