Susanna J. Sturgis   Martha's Vineyard writer and editor
writer editor born-again horse girl

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Dead Battery

December 05, 2009

Thursday afternoon was sunny and warm. I still haven't got my long johns and sweaters out, or put my shorts away; the screen insert is still in the storm door, and my Rinnai heater is still on its summer setting of L[ow], which means it only kicks in when the indoor temp goes below 50. I headed out looking forward to a ride, even though we're in the middle of the two-week shotgun deer season. The footing on the (dirt) Stoney Hill Road has been good, so I've been riding there and coming home on the trail behind Island Co-Housing. The weekend weather forecast was rainy, windy, colder, and bleak: do it now. Got into the truck, turned the key -- click. Nothing. No rumble, no lights, no nothing. Even the clock was dead. I lifted the hood. A small mound of blue-white powder had accumulated around the positive terminal. The connections looked pretty loose too. Uh-oh.

Sarah gave me a jump. Uhura rumbled to life. After letting her run for 15 minutes, I turned her off to see if she'd start again. She wouldn't. Sarah gave me another jump. The light was going southwest fast, riding was no longer a possibility, so I retrieved Travvy from the deck -- yes, Trav, you can bring the bone that I just revived with a slather of peanut butter -- and we went to the barn. I backed into my usual parking spot so Uhura's front end would be readily accessible. This time I let Uhura idle for 45 minutes. Didn't help. Battery wasn't holding a charge. Mark got home from work; he gave me a jump with his pickup. Travvy and I got home safely.

Friday morning the battery was even deader than it had been on Thursday afternoon. This time David gave me a jump. The first time I turned the key -- nothing. I waited a minute, with David's Tacoma running all the while. Nothing again. The third time, a couple more minutes later, the dashboard lights came on, I could read the digital clock, and the ding-ding-ding of the "key's in the ignition" bell was a little stronger, but I was beginning to think, Oh shit. I'm going to have to get her towed -- unless Larry makes house calls? David went into the house to tell his co-workers he would be a few minutes late. I tried again. Whew. Uhura woke up. We had liftoff.

I ran upstairs to make sure Larry could see her this morning -- yes, of course -- then I removed the Springer from the Red Menace, loaded her into the bed, and drove uneventfully to Vineyard Haven. Biking home I stopped at the Scottish Bakehouse for an almond croissant and had two interesting conversations while I ate it. After lunch I biked back into town. Uhura's battery transplant had been successful. What a thrill to hear her come alive in the matter to which I've long been accustomed. I didn't ride Friday either, though the weather was crystal perfect. Instead I reattached the Springer to the Red Menace and took Travvy for a bike ride. I'm very pleased with Red, and with the fact that I could bike from and then to Vineyard Haven in good time without getting tired. (It's not far, maybe five miles each way, with only one serious upgrade.) I did miss the toe clips I had on my last two bikes, but when biking with Travvy I'd just as soon have my feet free.

Having the homely but drop-dead dependable Uhura conk out was sobering, like Morgana V crashing so badly that I had to reinstall Windows and every other damn thing on my hard drive. For a few hours I was unsettlingly aware of just how precarious most forward motion is. Now I'm back to my usual complacency. The universe and I are in sync again.

 

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