Most of the time, when the Chief of Police pulls up alongside and rolls down his window, in this town, it's not usually anything to worry about.

This time it was.

"Can we talk for a few minutes?" he asks, in a serious tone.

Now, I'd just finished flying my own personal vomit comet for over an hour, so sitting in cold vehicles and talking wasn't top on my list of things to do.

But yeah. Sure.

"Does that run?" he asks, nodding towards eldest son's dilapidated 1976 red and white Landcruiser around the corner.

Parked right exactly where it has been parked since he came home from college, what, over a year ago?

Don't know, I told the Chief. Haven't tried to start it since last summer.

And that was the truth. I just didn't tell him that the battery was dead when I tried.

Well, it turns out that the town changed their definition of "abandoned vehicle" last fall and, as of 1st January, it is no longer adequate that the vehicle be licensed and insured, as this Landcruiser is.

Is has to run.

Otherwise, we've got to pull it into the driveway, and keep a cover on it.

"If you could just move it a couple feet ever month or so, that'd be enough." the Chief advised.

Okay. I'll let son know.

So, that was on the "To Do" list for Saturday. For the wife and son, that is. I had a fellow make a serious offer for that old hulk last summer, and the son wouldn't even consider it. So I consider the machine no longer my problem.

They're out there for hours. It's a nice sunny day, but still bitter cold with a little wind. The wife is half frozen when she brings the air pump back in for a recharge.

They got air into all the tires, enough to make them round again, but not up to specs.

She doesn't ask for my help.

I wander about eBay for almost another half-hour before I can't stand it anymore and go outside. They're still out there, the new Explorer connected to the antique Toyota like a lifeline. Every so often, eldest son gives the engine of the Landcruiser one more try. It turns over, so the starter works, but no ignition.

We have fun passing heelers in and out of vehicle windows, waiting for the charge to build between the batteries. Finally eldest son abandons his seat, giving me a chance to jump in.

He's only got the choke halfway out. I jerk it to full, and give the key a turn.

Engine starts.

Always good to look like you have special skills.

Wife foolishly disconnects the two vehicles and parks the Explorer back in the driveway. I try to move the antique forward, and 'thed', it dies.

And we have to jump it again.

Two more jump starts, and eldest son has finally, almost proudly, driven his old contraption a full car length along the curb. I grab the camera to document the vehicle movement...

And the oil-rich exhaust coming from the tailpipe.

Fortunately, our neighbor to the south happens to come walking by as son gets the engine reved up and the vehicle moving. And gives us a thumbs-up for our success.

Great! A witness.

And for the record, he agrees with eldest son not to sell the old thing. He thinks we ought to fix it up.

And, just for the fun of it, I took a few shots of the 2-cm deep depressions left in the street from the Landcruiser's tires.

That's depressions in asphalt, folks. Old asphalt, to be sure, but pavement just the same. As the wife said, it got hot last summer. The old car seems to have settled in.

Guess they're right to make us move it.

But anyway, we should be good with the cops, now.

For a month or so.

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