Today was to be my first day on the desert since Dad's accident this spring. Well, I did make it to the desert (as you can see), but just barely.
I always stop to let Jessie pee at the same spot just past Faust station and just south of Fitzgerald WMA. We held to tradition today, but afterward, Rubi wouldn't start. She spit once and that was it. My first thought was the battery. I got out my tools and pulled off the battery cables and cleaned them. Nothing. My second thought was "Oh.....um....brother." Fortunately, Faust is the last chance stop for cell phones--after Faust, they die. I started calling all the brothers I knew--I called Jim's brother, Robert. He wasn't there. I called my brother-in-law, Roger. He wasn't there. I found the number for the Jeep Dealership and called a brother of the faith. I got a voice message. I called my uncle's brother, Dad. He suggested several things and said he would send Mom out to get me. I told him to put a hold on that idea until I ran out of options. I finally reached my younger brother, Vaughn. Bless his soul, he was there. (Now mind you, none of these people, save my Dad, know that they are related to me, but when you are stranded, it's amazing how many relatives emerge from your pool of friends.) Vaughn studied the problem from afar via Internet and surmised I needed a new battery. Then Robert called. He was of the same opinion. You know, I never talk to Robert without learning something interesting. He told me that after 2 years, any battery has the potential to belly up--even Optimas.
By the way, there was an interesting side to this problem that was the source of some panic. Not only could I not start the car, I couldn't shift it either--yes, I did consider pushing it to a hill to force a non-starter start---obviously I wasn't thinking clearly. So, I was imagining frozen transmission-type problems. Vaughn found out that Jeeps have this shift lock gizmo that is non-functional without juice. To over-ride it, you put the key in the accessory position, step on the brake and then shift. Now that was SO intuitive, I can't believe it didn't occur to me!
Back to the story. So Vaughn told me to hang tight and he would pick up a new battery and bring it to me. See why I think of him as a brother? He thought it might be 2 hours before he got there, so Jessie and I headed across the road to see what we could find at Fitzgerald.
Have you ever really looked at an over-the-hill thistle? Neither had I. Here's a taste of what I found....
It makes me feel a lot better about passing 50.
I always stop to let Jessie pee at the same spot just past Faust station and just south of Fitzgerald WMA. We held to tradition today, but afterward, Rubi wouldn't start. She spit once and that was it. My first thought was the battery. I got out my tools and pulled off the battery cables and cleaned them. Nothing. My second thought was "Oh.....um....brother." Fortunately, Faust is the last chance stop for cell phones--after Faust, they die. I started calling all the brothers I knew--I called Jim's brother, Robert. He wasn't there. I called my brother-in-law, Roger. He wasn't there. I found the number for the Jeep Dealership and called a brother of the faith. I got a voice message. I called my uncle's brother, Dad. He suggested several things and said he would send Mom out to get me. I told him to put a hold on that idea until I ran out of options. I finally reached my younger brother, Vaughn. Bless his soul, he was there. (Now mind you, none of these people, save my Dad, know that they are related to me, but when you are stranded, it's amazing how many relatives emerge from your pool of friends.) Vaughn studied the problem from afar via Internet and surmised I needed a new battery. Then Robert called. He was of the same opinion. You know, I never talk to Robert without learning something interesting. He told me that after 2 years, any battery has the potential to belly up--even Optimas.
By the way, there was an interesting side to this problem that was the source of some panic. Not only could I not start the car, I couldn't shift it either--yes, I did consider pushing it to a hill to force a non-starter start---obviously I wasn't thinking clearly. So, I was imagining frozen transmission-type problems. Vaughn found out that Jeeps have this shift lock gizmo that is non-functional without juice. To over-ride it, you put the key in the accessory position, step on the brake and then shift. Now that was SO intuitive, I can't believe it didn't occur to me!
Back to the story. So Vaughn told me to hang tight and he would pick up a new battery and bring it to me. See why I think of him as a brother? He thought it might be 2 hours before he got there, so Jessie and I headed across the road to see what we could find at Fitzgerald.
Have you ever really looked at an over-the-hill thistle? Neither had I. Here's a taste of what I found....
It makes me feel a lot better about passing 50.
I also had the chance to get some pictures of my brown, over-the-hill side kick. No matter how old she gets, she will always have an evil glint in her eye.
2 comments:
Ohhh. How I miss Jesse. Crazy ol' woman that she is.. I'm glad I have so many nice uncles willing to help you out! And I'm glad you didn't try to jump start your automatic. That would have been embarrassing.
All I can say is, I'm glad I have such nice uncles. =>
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