It must be the Season of the Witch

It is miserable tonight. 36 degrees and raining. I'm out in my mancave/office. See the pic below from the Great Freeze. The other end is an old school garage. This building first shows up on the tax rolls in 1940. I'm out of printer paper. ****. So I go into the garage to get some, and there is my POS J-H. I say, WTF. I have not started it in months, maybe over a year. Freedom is another word for nothing left to lose, right? I take off the battery tender and turn the switch. Nothing, but the starter motor. Just as I suspected, Witch. And then, just as I was giving up, a bark. No, it can't be. This woman is teasing me. She is playing with me. I give her one mo chance. Damn thing starts right up and settles down to an idle.

I'm tempted to head off into the night. I'm crazy, but I'm not that damn crazy. It must be the Season of the Witch.





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Didn't Stephen King write a book about a car?

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