To B or not to Battery!

29 Nov

 

The nipple clamps some how made Jimmy feel a little sexier

 

So…

Running low on fuel and 30 miles of I-10 fun to go I decide to pull off and grab a couple of gallons of petrol. Had to think twice about this as given the cost of gas right now wasn’t sure if I would have to remortgage the house or sell another kidney on E-Bay. So far I have managed to sell three, which might sound a little extreme until you consider the fact that non of them were mine; the advantage of having a couple of kids and a doting wife. I mean, I would do it for them if they asked, except they haven’t and so neither have I!

Deciding the investment was sound and probably better than some I have made in the past (AMAT for instance.)I pull off the road and join the other weary travelers at the gas pump. Not that interesting really as I stand there and watch the digital digits change at the speed of light. Before I realize, I have committed myself to thirty dollars of high octane collateral and choose to stop right there. There is still a week and a half to go before pay day and I have very skinny kids that enjoy the occasional meal and a wife that enjoys collecting empty wine bottles. (If you know what I mean?) Gas cap back on, receipt in pocket, I jump in the car.

It’s a Volkswagen. Vorsprung durch techniek…. and all that nonsense; made by Germans so you know it has to be quality right?

Right!

I turn the key and wait the necessary nano-seconds for my horses to burst into life, but nothing! The sound we all despair, the ominous click of the solenoid and nothing else. I try once again.

Victorias secret was no longer a secret….

Nothing.

Desperation is slowly creeping in, and since I have allowed my AAA membership to slide my mind is already racing for a solution. I have no jumper cables which means that I will have to accost at least three people before I find one that speaks English, and even then it’s a one-in-ten chance that the Anglo monoglot has a set of the necessary. Things aren’t looking good, my chances seem bleak, my escape unlikely. Perhaps I should spend that money in my pocket on an Arizona lottery ticket as I probably stand more chance of scooping those seductive millions than I have of finding a set of jumper cables.

Even with safety glasses and  a tenfoot barge-pole, there was no way the professor was going anywhere near her…

 

Thinking fast now, what to do, what to do? I close the door switching off the interior light. I then turn off the headlights in the hope that the amps which are screaming into the darkness can be diverted to my starter motor. I try again.

Success!

DEUTSCHLAND UBER ALLES…fanbloodytastic! I am not doomed to spend the next couple of hours stuck in some rat hole of a gas station surrounded by disinterested travelers on their way to god knows where. I don’t have to do the miserable rounds of explaining my situation to random people who have as much interest in my issues as I theirs. I am free, liberated, on my way home.

          Robyn had returned home the other night looking none the worse for her virtual kidney transplant and told me that the car had failed to start in the Wal-Mart car park. I had listened half attentively and smiled sympathetically but inwardly pooh-poohed the idea that there was anything wrong with the vehicle.

“I tried to start it several times, and then closed the door and it started first time!” Silly woman! What on earth does she know about cars?

 I vow from this moment forward to forever listen to my wife whenever it comes to vehicular peculiarities and will never again dismiss the ides that a closed car door can engender a safe trip home. Tomorrow I will definitely buy a new battery and if not tomorrow then definitely the next day.

Battery strandings forgotten I turn up the radio and head for home. The I-10 gods look down upon me, nudge each other and laugh, as I, a mere mortal, dismiss my brush with near disaster. The cards are drawn, the dice  thrown,my fate already cast.

Zeus was happy with the new toilet seat..

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