By Merlin Lessler —<\/p>\n
I got to thinking about how simple life used to be before I caught the \u201cBattery Worry Virus.\u201d The only battery I was concerned about back then was the one in my car. <\/span><\/p>\n I rarely gave it a thought, except years ago when I first started into adulthood and when the battery in my fifth hand, 1953 Ford convertible was an issue. I paid $60 for the car at an auction in the college cafeteria. I got it for the bargain basement price because it was buried under a mountain of snow in a parking lot. <\/span><\/p>\n The battery, once it was fully charged, turned out to be weak, incapable of starting my car when overnight temperatures dropped down into the teens. I solved that problem by bringing it into my apartment on cold nights and putting it on the heat register. <\/span><\/p>\n The car had other afflictions as well; no heater, no keys (I had to hot wire it to get it running), the motor to raise and lower the top was defunct, and the front fenders had more fiberglass compound in them than steel. But I loved that blue beauty. <\/span><\/p>\n