A couple weeks ago, Elizabeth called while I was getting ready to take a little Sunday afternoon siesta to say that the truck had broken down. Daddy was working (of course), so I left to see what kind of help I could be.
This photo is me sitting behind the truck with my flashers on. People don’t seem to know what flashers mean. I had to keep waving people on. Frankly, I decided that most people are stupid after this day.
This is Elizabeth and I hanging out in the car waiting for the tow truck-love having a camera on my phone for times like this.
This is the tow truck driver hooking up the truck. You can see that the truck chose kind of a bad place to die on her, but we got it home.
It turned out that all that was wrong was the alternator. Mr. Tryon had a new alternator in the truck and had it running and ready to go by 10:30 the next morning. The sad thing is that Elizabeth is already showing “the gene”. The gene that zaps alternators with nothing but a look. I have had to replace at least 3 alternators over the course of my driving existence (possibly more-I don’t recall some of my earlier cars problems, so I may be forgetting some).
Happy Wednesday…and don’t spend your Sundays this way!