It’s starting to snow, again. They are only flurries, but it’s the principle of the matter. The whole idea of spending almost a month in Seattle was to wait out winter in a warmer, if wetter clime. It is spring already, it shouldn’t still be snowing. I’m waiting for the wrecker to appear. Anne’s car won’t start. I’m hoping that it just needs a jump. It has hardly been driven in the last month. When I was gone, Anne ran the Prius and then we were both gone and no one drove and last week Anne only used it a little. Usually, though when a battery losses its charge in the cold winter months, that is all it takes and the battery becomes kaput. It frequently takes out other more expensive elements of the electrical system too.
I just finished a brief hiatus there and I bet that you didn’t even notice it. The man from Auto Rescue had shown up. He and his handy-dandy handheld battery jumping pack got Anne’s car to turnover on the first try. Per his instruction, I’m allowing the car to egregiously idle for thirty minutes to recharge the battery. Hopefully, the battery holds the charge and this little incident can be quickly put behind us. The best thing about the whole thing is that I didn’t have to pay for the jump. It is covered under our auto insurance policy. Otherwise, I might have been tempted to jump Anne’s car myself using the Prius, which with its fancy hybrid system I am rather loath to do. God help me if and when that car ever dies, which could have happen while we were in Seattle.
The night before Anne left town, she got a knock on the front door from one of our neighbors. He had noticed that the dome light in the Prius had been on for a while. We were fortunate that he did, because Anne left by cab the following morning and probably wouldn’t have noticed the light being left on in the daylight. I think that ten days would have been enough to drain the battery. Standing out in the billowing snow tonight, reminded me of all those times that I had called AAA. I had a 1962 Buick Skylark and it was a cantankerous beast. It did not like winter. There were stretches when I’d be calling the auto club almost every day. It became habit to be the first thing I did when I got up to go to work. I was working at Chrysler at the time, where my car problems fell upon unsympathetic ears. “Why don’t you buy a new car?”
I eventually did, a Plymouth Arrow. The night I brought it home a drunk came by at 3 AM and smashed up the Buick along with three other cars. The next car in line was my new one. I eventually got the honor of smashing it myself and it eventually died in a wreck on Highway 40 involving a Semi.
The photo of the postcard is from Pikes Brewery in Seattle.