Before I came home from church Sunday morning, I stopped by the grocery store to buy bananas to take over to Venture Home Again, where I conduct a brief prayer service on the third Sunday afternoon of each month. I parked in my carport and preceded to eat lunch. When I got in my car and turned on the key, nothing happened. Zero. Nada. I found that I could not even change gears without the engine running.
I immediately thanked God that the engine failure had happened in my carport rather than at Stanford the previous Sunday, or in Louisville, or Inez, or any number of places I had been. The same thing had happened to me at Thelma in another car years ago, and in still another one in Jim Whitmer's driveway in Lexington. Both times the battery had given up the ghost. I've had this car about five years, I thought. I may need a new battery.
I had to forego going to the nursing home, but Bonnie Adams came by and got me to go to church Sunday evening. Bro. Bob, the pastor, offered to come and give me a boost, but where I had the car parked, nobody could reach it with booster cables.
I told daughter Patti my dilemma when she called from Seattle Monday morning. "Surely you know somebody who has a battery-operated booster," she said, "or somebody who will bring you a battery."
I mulled that over for a while, and finally remembered Roger Brown, who has recently retired from full-time automotive business. He was my library assistant years ago, graduating with my daughter Cathy in 1970. He engineered a CD for me when I recorded a number of songs for my children and grandchildren for Christmas one year. He will know what I can do, I thought.
I called Roger and he said," I will be over after while."
He came over and sure enough, he tested the battery and said, "Your battery is dead." Masterpiece of understatement.
He boosted the battery, got the car started and gave me these instructions:" Don't stop this car until you stop it in front of the door at Advance Auto Parts. When it stops, try to start it again. If it starts, drive on off. If it won't start, go in and have them test your battery. They will install a new battery for you if you need one."
I followed Roger's directions explicitly. When the car wouldn't start after I tried to turn it back on, I went in, and the gentleman in the store tested my old battery, told me five years was about the average life of one, and sold me another one guaranteed for three years. I opted for the three-year one rather than the two year one, figuring that by the time this one gives out, I will no doubt need to hang up my driver's license.
I came away thankful that the battery gave out in Paintsville, and thankful that, having lived in a small town for fifty-eight years, I know friends who are willing to come to my aid when I need them.
Other items by this author:
"To Kill a Mockingbird" is Fifty Years Old
You Can't Do A Thing About the Weather
