This video is a compilation of several real cold starts that I recorded on different days before heading to my skating classes. Most of the clips feature my Opala and my Beetle, and every attempt was recorded as I was getting ready to leave for class.

Since these clips were filmed on different days, every start was a little different. There were times when the Opala started surprisingly easily, other times when it took quite a while before the engine finally came to life, and there was even one day when it simply would not start at all. After so many attempts, the battery went weak a few times, and I had to call my husband to come help me get the car going again.

You’ll also see me wearing different outfits and different shoes because all of these moments happened on different days. Nothing was staged or recreated. These are all real cold starts from my actual routine before skating class.

And at the end, there is one longer clip where I finally get the car started and actually drive it to my class. I placed the camera on its mount and recorded the entire trip, so you can follow the car from the cold start all the way to the drive.

Today I decided to take the Voyage out for a little drive, wearing my slippers. Since the weather was warm, I was hoping the car would cooperate a little more than usual, and thankfully, it did start faster this time. It still took a little while before the engine finally came to life, but it was definitely easier than on those cold days.

Once it started, I took the Voyage out for a drive and enjoyed getting it moving. I accelerated, shifted through the gears, and drove around for a while before bringing it back. When I stopped, I gave the engine several strong revs, listening to it respond each time. After that, I switched it off, stepped out of the car, and called it a day.

I got into my VW Voyage hoping to take it out for a little drive and get some ice cream, but with how cold it was today, I had a feeling the car might have other plans. I took off my coats, climbed in wearing my heeled boots, and started trying to get the engine going. I tried absolutely everything I could think of, pumping the pedal lightly, pumping it hard, pumping quickly, pumping slowly, holding it all the way down, and even trying to start it without pumping at all. Every attempt was different, but none of them worked. Every now and then I stopped to play with my phone for a moment, trying to give the engine a little break and avoid flooding it or draining the battery too quickly. There was one moment when it sounded like it might finally start, but it never quite got there. After so many failed attempts, I got frustrated enough to take off my boots and socks and keep trying barefoot, even though the pedals were absolutely freezing. I kept going for nearly the entire 16 minute video, trying again and again, begging the car to cooperate and getting increasingly frustrated as nothing seemed to work. Eventually, after pushing both the car and myself as far as I could, the battery finally ran out and there was nothing more I could do. I was already pretty angry and frustrated by that point, so I had to give up. I put my boots back on without my socks, and that was the end of my attempt to get the Voyage started and go out for ice cream.

Today I just wanted to take my Voyage out for a little drive, but getting it started turned into a much bigger challenge than I expected. I got in wearing my Birkenstocks, took them off, and put on my black high heel mules before trying to start the car. What followed felt like an eternity. I kept trying over and over, sometimes pumping the pedal, sometimes waiting a little so I would not drain the battery, but the engine just refused to cooperate. My husband was nearby helping me, especially because the car was still stuck inside the garage and I knew getting it out would take some time even after getting it running.

After what felt like forever, the Voyage finally gave me a little sign that it wanted to start. I managed to move it slightly forward, but then it stalled and refused to start again. I kept trying and trying until it became clear that something was not quite right. My husband opened the hood and started checking things to see if he could figure out what was going on. After so many attempts, I finally managed to get the engine running again.

Getting the car out of the garage was another challenge. The space was really tight, so I had to move forward and backward several times, carefully maneuvering until I finally got it out. By that point, I was honestly close to giving up after spending around 20 minutes trying to get the car started.

But in the end, it was worth it. I finally took the Voyage out for a drive, shifted through the gears, and accelerated quite a bit because I was still tense after everything that had just happened. I was worried something might go wrong after such a difficult start, but thankfully everything worked out. I drove around for a while, came back home, parked the Voyage in front of the house, and finally got out of the car.

I needed to take my Opala to the gas station, but first I had to get it started after it had been sitting for a while. I got in wearing my Havaianas, took them off and set them aside so I could drive barefoot, then started trying to bring the engine back to life. The battery was already weak, and even though the car gave a few signs that it wanted to start, it just wouldn’t quite get there. Since it was a warmer night and the Opala runs on ethanol, I was expecting an easier start than on those cold days, but the loose battery terminals were the real problem. My husband noticed them, tightened them up, and after that the car started normally. Once the engine warmed up, everything worked perfectly. I drove carefully to the gas station because I didn’t want to run out of fuel on the way, so I kept things nice and easy and filmed the whole trip. After filling up, the video continues with me already driving back home. Knowing I had plenty of fuel this time, I could relax a little and enjoy the drive, accelerating a bit more just to hear that beautiful engine sound. The ride home was definitely more exciting, and after getting back, I parked the Opala in front of the house and called it a night.

I was getting ready for my gym class and thought starting the Opala would be the easy part of my morning. I got in wearing my gym clothes and socks and started trying to fire it up, taking my time and giving the battery a little break between attempts.

But the engine simply refused to cooperate. After a while, my husband came to help and opened the hood. We quickly discovered the problem: the cold start reservoir was completely empty. He filled it up, and I pressed the choke button to get some fuel moving through the carburetor.

The Opala finally started, but the engine was still cold and struggling to stay running. It started, stalled, then started again. Not exactly the smoothest trip to the gym, but at least I finally got some signs of life from it!

My friend needed to take her Ford out, so she slipped into her flip flops, got behind the wheel and turned the key, expecting a normal start. Instead, the engine refused to cooperate.

She kept pumping the gas pedal over and over, trying every trick she could think of. Every attempt sounded a little different, making her believe it was finally about to come to life, but it never did. She stayed in the driver's seat for a long time, patiently cranking the engine and working the pedal, determined not to give up.

Eventually the battery became too weak to keep trying, so she waited a while before giving it another chance. Once there was enough power again, she climbed back in and repeated the whole process. More pumping, more cranking, more hope, but the stubborn engine still refused to start.

After countless attempts, thick clouds of smoke began pouring from the exhaust, showing just how much effort had gone into trying to wake the engine up. Even with all that persistence, the Ford simply would not cooperate.

In the end, my friend had no choice but to give up. She stepped out of the car in her flip flops and walked away, leaving the Ford exactly where it was.

I thought getting to work today would be easy. I put on a simple outfit, slipped into my green heeled mules, grabbed my keys, and headed out into the freezing morning.

The moment I got in my old VW Voyage, I knew it wasn't going to cooperate. The engine was ice cold, and no matter how many times I turned the key and pumped the gas pedal, it just refused to come to life. I kept talking to the car, begging it to start, hoping each attempt would be the one. At one point it almost caught, but then it sputtered and quit again. I think I accidentally flooded the engine.

I refused to give up and kept trying until the battery finally ran out of power. Since there was nothing else I could do, I went back inside, put the battery on charge, and decided to get ready properly while I waited. I changed into a more polished outfit and swapped my green mules for a pair of black high heels before heading back outside for another round.

Even with fresh determination, the Voyage still wouldn't cooperate. I kept pumping the pedal, turning the key over and over, but nothing worked. After what felt like forever, frustration got the better of me. I kicked off my heels and continued trying barefoot, hoping that somehow this stubborn old car would finally respond.

When my husband noticed what was happening, he came outside to help. He poured a little gasoline into the carburetor, and that finally got the engine going... sort of. It was running terribly. The engine kept stumbling, it wouldn't stay running, thick smoke poured from the exhaust along with plenty of liquid, and every few seconds it would shut off again. I'd start it, it would quit. I'd try again, and the same thing happened. I simply couldn't get the engine to run properly.

Eventually I had to admit defeat. Instead of spending the whole morning fighting with the Voyage, I went back inside and called an Uber before I ended up even later for work.

This morning I had to drive my Opala to work during rush hour, so I picked my smartest office outfit with a jacket, pants and heels before heading out.

The trouble started the moment I got in the car. The engine was completely cold and refused to cooperate. I kept cranking barefoot, pumping the gas pedal and trying to keep it running. Then I put on my heels, but the battery started getting weak. I waited a little, and it finally started. After a lot of patience, I finally managed to warm it up enough to leave.

I thought the hard part was over, but the traffic made everything worse. Suddenly the car stalled. I wasn't expecting that. I tried to start it again. I was constantly stopping and starting, and the engine kept stalling at the most embarrassing moments. Every time it happened, I had to crank it two or three times before it would start again, with other drivers waiting behind me while I became more and more nervous.

At last I made it to work. Before switching the engine off, I gave it a few very hard revs, hoping it would make starting it later a little easier. Then I got out of the car and walked into the office, trying to forget the stressful commute I had just survived.

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I was extremely frustrated by this point. I changed into more comfortable clothes and slipped on my flip flops before deciding to try the car again.

Unfortunately, it was still refusing to start, but now I was determined to get it running. I made longer attempts, pumping the gas pedal and focusing on every sound the engine made. But the car wasn't even sputtering.

Finally, I decided to check under the hood.

That's when I noticed the coil wire was disconnected!

I couldn't believe it. Someone had sabotaged my car.

I quickly reconnected the wire and rushed back into the driver's seat, convinced I had found the problem. I turned the key and tried again...

Nothing.

The car still refused to start.

I didn't see anything else wrong, so I continued trying, pumping the gas pedal rapidly as my frustration grew. What I didn't know was that my boyfriend had also disconnected three of the four spark plug wires and left them sitting loosely in place.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the car running.

Eventually, my anger faded into sadness. I felt completely betrayed and overwhelmed. I wanted to cry.

Defeated, I walked back into my house and sat down, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.

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After a huge argument, my boyfriend canceled our plans and left me a long voice message. While listening to it, I thought I heard my friend's voice in the background, so I tried calling him, but he wouldn't answer. Convinced something was going on, I decided to drive to his house and confront him.

My friend agreed to meet me first, but as I tried to warm up my car, it refused to start. I spent a long time pumping the gas pedal and cranking the engine, only to end up calling her because I couldn't get the car running. To my surprise, she was having car trouble too.

Later, I changed into more comfortable clothes and tried again. After another long battle, I checked under the hood and found the coil wire disconnected. I reconnected it, convinced I had solved the problem, but the car still wouldn't start. What I didn't know was that my boyfriend had secretly disconnected three spark plug wires as well. Frustrated, heartbroken, and feeling completely betrayed, I gave up and went back inside.

While I was sitting on the couch, absentmindedly dangling my flip flops, my friend called me. As we talked, I suddenly heard my boyfriend's voice in the background. Shocked, I demanded to know why they were together. What happened next changed everything...

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I was extremely frustrated by this point. I changed into more comfortable clothes and slipped on my flip flops before deciding to try the car again.

Unfortunately, it was still refusing to start, but now I was determined to get it running. I made longer attempts, pumping the gas pedal and focusing on every sound the engine made. But the car wasn't even sputtering.

Finally, I decided to check under the hood.

That's when I noticed the coil wire was disconnected!

I couldn't believe it. Someone had sabotaged my car.

I quickly reconnected the wire and rushed back into the driver's seat, convinced I had found the problem. I turned the key and tried again...

Nothing.

The car still refused to start.

I didn't see anything else wrong, so I continued trying, pumping the gas pedal rapidly as my frustration grew. What I didn't know was that my boyfriend had also disconnected three of the four spark plug wires and left them sitting loosely in place.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the car running.

Eventually, my anger faded into sadness. I felt completely betrayed and overwhelmed. I wanted to cry.

Defeated, I walked back into my house and sat down, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.