By Staff
Am I old, or what? Didn't I begin my column last week with those words? Sure did. I just checked. And I shall reaffirm that we are "as old as we feel."
There are days, you know, when I feel ancient; and then there are days when I feel quite spry. It's all relative – Einstein would certainly approve of that!
With the current blast of winter, life has taken on a different countenance, and I have felt my age. At our house we are bundled up against the chill and have hunkered down for further snowy onslaughts.
Sunday, late in the afternoon, my wife felt obligated to respond to a request from our son who was stranded with a dead battery.
Being much more sympathetic than I, she climbed into her red Durango (the one she entered most precariously only days before) and found its battery dead as well.
Fortunately, my Jeep was at the ready. She switched horses, mid-stream, and off she went, into the wild snowy yonder.
I, in the meantime, was left with the assignment of working the miracle of bringing her dead battery back to life. No problem! I called the 800 number we recently received from our auto insurance company and VOILA! – I connected with a pleasant, compassionate voice, ready to assist me in my dark moment of distress.
She assured me that Dave's Towing would come to my rescue. Now mind you, I was tucked safely and warmly in our home, while my dear wife was out and about on the tundra, in the clutches of wretched winter.
But I'd done the manly thing – I called for help! By the time she arrived home and her mission was accomplished, I could proudly report that sometime that evening, someone would be at our house to resuscitate the dead battery in her SUV.
Sure enough, the troops arrived – well, one young man drove up. I was ready to assist, although I didn't know what was exactly expected of me.
The rescuer alighted from his SUV with a small gizmo no larger than a laptop computer. I had no idea what it was. I was expecting jumper cables and all that stuff.
When he asked me to "pop the hood," I couldn't find the hood-release latch. How humiliating! I assured him that because it was dark, I couldn't see it. He, of course, popped the hood with one swift move, attached clamps to the battery and requested that I start the engine.
After a couple of tries, it worked. Whatever was in that small pack (I later learned that it's called a jumper pack) was mighty powerful! A far cry from how I was used to charging a dead battery.
While the Durango's engine was purring and bringing the battery up to full charge, the young man called his base station on his two-way.
As he held out the form for me to sign he said, "My dad said hello." Come to find out, his dad was one of my college students nearly 20 years ago. My rescuer, I learned, was 18 years old. How time flies! Wasn't it just yesterday that his dad was in my class? I remember when his parents were married.
Am I old, or what? No, I'm just a few years ahead of some of the others. I'm thankful that these young ones know how to start batteries in a more efficient way than I knew.
I'm thankful that their parents remember me – with fondness, I hope. In spite of all that seems to be wrong with the world and the lack of faith we sometimes have in young people, I realize that these kids have a vast knowledge of things for which I have no comprehension. I guess I still have a lot to learn!
Thanks, Tony, for remembering me. And thanks to your son who was kind and polite.