So, yesterday. . .
Yesterday was Saturday. In addition, it was sunny, and warm, and, yeah, a little breezy, but with a welcome lack of winter tooth. A pre-spring breeze, in fact.
Friday morning, I had gone out into the world — aka to two places which were not hospitals (the pharmacy and the post office, and yes, I was wearing a mask) — and had noticed that Skylark the Subaru was just a tad reluctant to start. I mentioned this to Steve, who mentioned that Saturday was looking good for us to Do Our Duty by our Vehicle, and take it out for a battery-reviving ride.
Which is what we did. We picked a target — Lincolnville Beach in Ducktrap (or, if you prefer, Lincolnville) — and a route — over Pleasant View Ridge in China, which afforded a tremendous view of Mount Washington, as well as Sugarloaf, and — it was just the White Mountains and the Appalachians, as far as the eye could see.
Anyhow, we were motoring along quite contentedly, enjoying ourselves and the sun, and remarking on how many branches the winter had shaken out of the trees, and everything was going well, until. . .
We made a Fatal Error.
We stopped for gas.
For those non-drivers among us — when you stop for gas, you turn the car off.
In an Ideal Universe, once you’ve finished filling the tank, you get back in the car, turn the key, the motor turns over, and Bob’s your uncle.
In a less-than-Ideal-Universe, which is where we all seem to be stuck, the car — doesn’t start.
So, there we were, at the Irving gas station on Route 3, right next to Lori’s Diner, blocking access to a gas delivery point, dead, so to speak, in the water.
We called Triple A which this time did not fail us, and very soon we had Sparky himself from Sparky’s Garage, who gave us a boost with a — wait for it — handheld battery about the size of an ipad, and three times as thick.
On the road again, we resumed our drive, arriving at Lincolnville Beach to find that the Entire Population of Central Maine had thought to themselves, “Yanno? nobody will be at Ducktrap.” We passed on by, waving at the ocean, and headed up-coast, diverting into Northport, which — no, I can’t describe Northport. I love the place, but I have peculiar tastes in villages. Say, that Northport is built vertically above the sea; all roads, save the ridge road to which we scrupulously adhered, go either up, briefly, to the top of the hill, or down, eventually, to the sea.
The ridge road allows many good view of the sea, close in and distant, and so we drove, looking out, across to Searsport, and down to where the odd little boathouses are tucked into crinkles of land right at the edge of the water, and down to more public places, Saturday Cove, and the center harbor.
Coming out of Northport, we continued up to Belfast, did a circuit of the crowded public pier, and so to home, stopping to sit in line at Burger King, to gather fish sandwiches to take home.
So, that was fun, and I’m glad we got out for a drive. Less fun, I’m going to have get a new battery in the car — and soon. I want the car to start, and no back-chat, when I get out of Ray Gun Therapy. That means — new battery before Wednesday, which is complicated by the fact that the weatherbeans are calling for 3-5 inches of snow between 8pm this evening, and midnight, Monday.
Oh, April, you really are the cruelest month.