One Clutch Away from Love.
RAY: The germ of this puzzler was sent in by a fellow named Mark Phillips. And I turned it into a full virus.
Back around 1990, I rebuilt the engine of my 1981 pickup and everything worked just fine and I was really proud of myself. Well, one very chilly fall day, I drove over to my girlfriend's house to visit. We ate lunch, went for a walk in the woods, watched the sunset, read poetry to one another, and when I tried to leave I discovered that my battery was dead. Stone dead. Why? I had accidentally left my lights on for 8 hours. Of course, I didn't have jumper cables and she didn't have jumper cables. But no problem, I thought. Her house it at the top of a hill and my truck has a manual transmission, so I'll just roll down the hill, pop the clutch and I'll be on my way.
Well, just as I was about to start pushing, my girlfriend yelled out, 'Stop!' I expected her to throw her arms around me and say, 'Don't leave, please, I love you!' Instead she says, 'It's not going to work, stupid.'
What did she know about my truck that I had forgotten? Now don't go looking for anything unusual. There's nothing wrong with the truck. The only thing that was wrong with it was that the battery went dead. But there was something different about my truck that would prevent me from starting it in the manner that you would think I would be able to start it... rolling it down the hill and popping the clutch.
Think you know? Drop Ray a note!
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