All Charged Up
On Friday evening, I attended a pro soccer game with Rob and his brother Ryan at Dallas' "historic" Cotton Bowl. The word historic, when linked to the Cotton Bowl, is short hand for beat-up stadium located in a shitty neighborhood.
Whenever I have to park in a massive parking lot located in questionable surroundings, I always drive my 1983 Ranger pickup. It's highly unlikely anyone is going to jack a 22-year-old pickup (though somebody tried to about 7 years ago when my Dad owned this vehicle.) And if it happens, I'm only out $1,000, which is what I paid my Dad for the beloved Ranger.
After the game, I have this funny feeling when I get back to the truck. I almost tell Rob and Ryan to wait a minute. I get in the cab, turn the key and nothing happens. Lucky for me, Rob hasn't got in his truck yet, so I get him to pull over for a jump. We try for about 10 minutes to jump the Ranger, but still it won't turn over. So Rob takes me home and the Ranger gets to spend the night in Dallas' most crime ridden area.
That night, I actually had a dream that the Ranger got towed by some unscrupulous person who pulled the engine out of the truck. Why anyone would want the outdated V-6 in this truck is beyond me.
The next morning, I woke up from the dream at 6:30 a.m. and headed back over to the Cotton Bowl to see if the Ranger had made it through the night. It was right where I left it, untouched. The battery tester I brought with me showed that the 4-year-old battery in the truck was way dead. So I bought a new battery, had Karen drive me back to the Cotton Bowl, put the battery in and the Ranger was back in business.
I had to explain to Karen that dead batteries are the cost of doing business when owning a vehicle. And there's a phrase that the kids are using now, according to Rob, that perfectly expresses this situation. And that is: "Just charge that to the game."
Whenever I have to park in a massive parking lot located in questionable surroundings, I always drive my 1983 Ranger pickup. It's highly unlikely anyone is going to jack a 22-year-old pickup (though somebody tried to about 7 years ago when my Dad owned this vehicle.) And if it happens, I'm only out $1,000, which is what I paid my Dad for the beloved Ranger.
After the game, I have this funny feeling when I get back to the truck. I almost tell Rob and Ryan to wait a minute. I get in the cab, turn the key and nothing happens. Lucky for me, Rob hasn't got in his truck yet, so I get him to pull over for a jump. We try for about 10 minutes to jump the Ranger, but still it won't turn over. So Rob takes me home and the Ranger gets to spend the night in Dallas' most crime ridden area.
That night, I actually had a dream that the Ranger got towed by some unscrupulous person who pulled the engine out of the truck. Why anyone would want the outdated V-6 in this truck is beyond me.
The next morning, I woke up from the dream at 6:30 a.m. and headed back over to the Cotton Bowl to see if the Ranger had made it through the night. It was right where I left it, untouched. The battery tester I brought with me showed that the 4-year-old battery in the truck was way dead. So I bought a new battery, had Karen drive me back to the Cotton Bowl, put the battery in and the Ranger was back in business.
I had to explain to Karen that dead batteries are the cost of doing business when owning a vehicle. And there's a phrase that the kids are using now, according to Rob, that perfectly expresses this situation. And that is: "Just charge that to the game."
posted by john clarke at 6:31 AM
3 Comments:
I wonder why my rig couldn't jump you properly..perhaps my battery isn't packing much mojo.
Glad you are back in the saddle, and yeah, charge it to the game player
That battery was so done nothing could have revived it. I know this because I tried to jump it again with the Mustang the next day and got the same response --- nothing.
But it's already been charged to the game. So all is well.
Glad it was nothing more. Long live the Ranger
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