One Saturday morning there was a knock at my door. It was an elderly lady who I didn’t know. Apparently she had seen me working my vehicles—I owned a car, a truck, and a motorcycle—and said that she was in a pickle. Her car wouldn’t start and she had to make a trip of some sort. She had seen me working on vehicles and maybe I could help her. Why not ? She owned the most perfect desirable low mileage 1967 Lincoln Continental ! Gawd what a cream puff ! We walked to her place. I tried the key and nothing. I opened the hood and took a look. I said that I’d be right back. I walked home and got a wrench, some paper towels, and a plastic cup containing baking soda and water.
The battery terminals were utterly encrusted. I loosened the clamps, poured on the solution, and wiggled the clamps. In less than five minutes the terminals were clean and re-tightened. The car fired right up. We sort of became friends after that. She was 80 years old and a widow. Wow was she sharp ! Her age did not affect her intelligence or wit an iota. And while I never again worked on her car, I was able to tell her about an extremely reputable and affordable mechanic. I later learned that that was why she initially approached me. She had a near phobia of being taken advantage of by mechanics.
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