My truck has had battery problems. About twice a year, it has increasing trouble starting, until a week or two later when it just conks out completely. I understand why it happens – I start it up cold, drive thirteen blocks, let it sit all day, then repeat the process to go home. I hardly ever go anywhere after work, and we never take the truck into Lincoln because it’s a more efficient to take the car. So, the battery doesn’t get charged up. (I asked about this problem last time I took it in, and the guys didn’t really seem to care. The battery is under warranty so they just replace it for free.)
Well, earlier this week it was starting to make the warning sounds, so I let it idle fifteen minutes in the driveway. When Lloyd came home I told him about it and he said, “Tomorrow, let it run an hour.”
So I did. I drove Ralph home, left the car running, and said to myself, “Set a timer so you don’t forget.” This was around 5:00. Then Ralph started doing his pitifully hilarious shennanigans.
As I was writing my post last night at 8:30, there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Durre, our neighbor. He started to speak, but I went pale and said, “The truck!”
God bless him. If he hasn’t stopped by, that thing would have run out of gas. I am so stupid.
Bright side? It started like a dream this morning.