Okay, laugh if you want (I don’t know that I’d blame you), but this morning I experienced a head spinning miracle when my dead car battery was started by something called a jump starter that was the size of an ice cream sandwich on steroids! (Picture an ice cream sandwich and double the size, and you’ve got it.)

I kid you not. 

At 71, my memory of driving and car batteries began the day I turned 13 years old (when I got in my grandfather’s Mercedes and took it out for a spin) right through the time I drove a car service and cab in New York City up until May 1985, 40 years ago.

Forty years ago might explain why, when I bought a jump-starter I expected the charger to be around the same size as the battery.

Wrong.

When the package arrived, it was so small I thought something had gone wrong with the order.    

Wrong again, oh aged one.

Anyway, I charged the “ice cream sandwich” and took it down to my dead-battery car this morning. It was 19 degrees out.

I scraped off the snow and frost, opened the hood, got the “ice-cream sandwich” hooked up to the battery, got back in the car, hit the ignition, and it started!!

And yes, I got out of my car with both hands above my head in victory, and did a bit of a jig! After all, saved by an ice cream sandwich is a miracle by any measure.