I was on the end of some medical errands (doctor visit, taking care of some billing issues) this afternoon. Stopped in at a store for lunch. When I came back out to the car...it wouldn't start.
This is the second time in two weeks that I've taken the X-11 out for more than a short run, only to be unable to start it. Fortunately, the first time was at the same auto parts joint where I bought the (still-new) battery. The guy there popped it out, charged and tested it, and after almost an hour I was back on the road.
This time...convenience store. All my tools are in the Tracker, 4 miles away. I let the battery "rest" between tries, turned everything off, waited a few minutes, tried again. No good. Then I tried letting it roll back on the sloped parking lot and popping the clutch. No good--and now I was stuck in the middle of the lot. No way I was going to try pushing back uphill, so I cut the wheel hard-left and started huffing and puffing, pushing the car toward the side lot.
I was obviously having trouble; one nice guy walked helpfully past me, hopped into his Mustang, and considerately moved it out of the way, then out into traffic.
Then there was Mr. Asshole, who had pulled in next to me before I tried popping the clutch. Mr. Asshole came out of the store as I wrestled the steering wheel. He got in his truck and started yelling at me for being in his way (I didn't see or hear it--I was too busy--but one of my helpers told me about his tantrum).
If I hadn't been busy being the only horse moving the wagon, I'd have gotten my camera out to take pictures of his truck to share with the Internet, since the Internet likes assholes. Just ask George Tierny of Greenville, SC. But I was busy.
A nice lady came running over and helped me push, then a guy who wasn't Mr. Asshole joined us. Mr. Asshole kept ranting manfully in his truck, safe from physical effort, and as soon as we inconsiderate car-pushers were clear he backed out and drove away. I was still too busy to whip out a camera, but I'm pretty sure he's a Republican. Fits the profile, these days.
We got the car around to the side of the building and I thanked my helpers and sat there for a few minutes. After maybe half an hour of sitting, I got the engine running. Ran like crap, rough and sluggish, and didn't get much better the entire way home. Hope I didn't inconvenience Mr. Asshole in some way, having once already ruined his day.
"Scumbags" tag's for him--and Johnny Cash has a message, too (I think he's saying, "Thanks for your help."):
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