Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown
Times
Adventures at
sea don’t always involve a boat
By Ann Ipock October
18, 2005
While it’s true there’s never a good time for your car battery
to go dead, it’s especially true during a thunderstorm, (picture
sharp lightning and torrential rain) while parked at the public beach
access. This is what happened recently when our daughter Kelly visited
us.
Also visiting were Madison, our granddaughter, and Nancy, my sister. While
they stayed with us a week, we packed in every possible trip to the beach.
Since they live in central North Carolina, they don’t get to the
ocean very often. I’m always the first one in the car should our
friends or family ask to go there, since we’re so blessed to live
only one mile away.
The day started out like many others that week — a brilliant sun
with scorching-hot temperatures. I made a batch of yummy pimiento cheese
and we loaded sandwiches, snacks, fruit and drinks into the cooler. Next
we placed chairs, towels, the cooler, beach bags, sunscreen and toys into
Kelly’s trunk. Phew! It’s fun playing at the beach; but it’s
work getting there. We arrived on a low tide with lots of room to spread
out.
We’d only been there an hour when — as sometimes happens suddenly
in late summer — a dark cloud formed overhead. I managed to get
in a short walk; but when I returned to our chairs, a few tiny raindrops
quickly turned into full-blown sheets of rain. We made a beeline for the
car, as did a horde of other frantic beach goers. Because we had so much
to load we were one of the last groups to leave.
Kelly asked me to drive since I’m more familiar with the roads here;
and, in actuality, I’m more skilled at driving in reverse. (This
is the daughter that, when backing up, levels mail boxes and other stationary
objects.)
Wet and shivering, I put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing.
I tried it again. Not nary a sound. By now the rain was pelting our car
and only a truck remained. Meanwhile, Kelly quizzed me: “Are you
sure the car is in park?” “Yes,” I answered. “Then,
jiggle the steering wheel. Sometimes that helps,” she said. I jiggled.
Still nothing. I took the key out and reinserted it. Several times.
When I saw two guys run toward the truck, I rolled down the window and
hollered, “Do y’all know anything about cars?” “A
little bit,” the older man answered.
These helpful and caring souls turned out to be Robbie McNeil and his
son, Bryant, of Florence. I found out later they’d driven over to
spend the day surfing. Robbie wasted no time “getting to work”
in attempting to rescue us. He checked under the hood, while getting soaked
himself, then knocked on the car window and told me there was corrosion
at the battery site.
I handed him a bottle of water to dissolve the corrosion. Still, it wouldn’t
start. He then asked if we had a toolbox. I jumped out and retrieved one
from the trunk. When I handed it to him he offered various explanations
of the problem. I saw his lips move but I couldn’t hear a word he
said over the wind and rain. Still he and Bryant didn’t give up.
After a while Robbie suggested we wait until the rain stopped and the
battery dried some — then come back and jump it. But there was one
problem — getting us home.
Robbie offered to run to the nearest cottage to find me a ride to go get
my car. I’d met Worth Johnson — the cottage owner, waved to
him a few times, when I’d gone over for my daily walks — and
he kindly agreed.
Arriving home, I was surprised to find hubby Russell there, whose golf
game had been rained out. He hopped in my car with me driving, so he could
transfer our family and paraphernalia (in particular the picnic lunch
— one of my biggest concerns!). While he loaded our car, I ran under
the carport at Worth’s home and thanked him (and his wife Heidi)
again. You know how friendly we Southerners are — Russell swore
that took me a full 15 minutes, but that’s not true!
Assuming Russell would drive home, I opened the front passenger door to
get in — and nearly sat on a body; whose it was, I couldn’t
see (but I heard lots of laughter) with the torrential rain. I tried the
rear door — first on the passenger side and then the driver side.
Impossible: Other bodies and more laughter! Like a fool (and I’m
sure it looked this way to Worth, Robbie and the others) on my fourth
try, I found an empty seat and drove off.
By the way, the problem was a dead battery. Thanks, Merchant’s Tires
for fixing it late on Saturday. Thanks also to Jeff Pizer at the Midway
Fire Department who switched and reinstalled Madison’s car seat.
It’s nice to know that there are good, decent people out there who
are ready to lend a hand when small disasters strike. So, thanks again
to Robbie, Bryant, Worth and Heidi. And to everyone else: Pass it on.
I plan to!