Peggy's car battery died a lonesome death the other morning. My fault. She rarely drives it, but I should wedge myself into that Corolla now and then and give it a good pizza run. I should also resume my piano lessons, but we have a better chance of me paying attention to that wee car, trust me.
In 1976, as part of my Bicentennial frenzy, I invested in good tools, one of which was a good set of heavy-gauge jumper cables. Cars were always conking out in those days; I blame that on disco music and post-Nixon melancholia, and I gave and got my share of jump starts. But now, those same cables have been with me in my various cars and trucks over these fifty years, and they still work fine.
My advice is to spend a few extra bucks and get a good set of jumper cables...not those cheesy ones that come packed in a $12.99 Roadside Emergency Kit along with bandaids, luminescent sticks, and a compass. Get the good ones and keep them in one of those canvas tote-sacks you got with your New Yorker subscription.
You'll thank me one cold night.
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