But first I had to figure out how to jump a car.
SPORTZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!(is jumping a battery considered a sport?
It's something I don't understand, so probably)!!!!!!!!
I had never managed to learn or apply this most basic of skills for the adventurer. But, never fear, fellow adventurer, it's really easy to learn. I just looked it up on the internet (did you know you can find these sorts of things on the internet? What a world!)! But the internet terrified me. Apparently there are a lot of ways that a car can explode when you jump a battery.
Needless to say (but I'll say it just the same, needlessly), I was terrified when I arrived at my friend's apartment. She was leaning against the trunk of her car, ready for help, and I knew that, in a matter of minutes, the entire apartment complex might be blazing cinders.
She popped the hood of her car and I, mine. I attached the cables. I turned on the car. And even though I did exactly what Internet said I shouldn't, nothing blew up.
Conclusion: Adventure accomplished! Also, Internet lies.
I was so stoked with the blazing fire of adventure that I stopped at Harbor Freight Tools (which turned out to be having a sale, fellow adventurer! Get down there, fellow adventurer!) on my way home. In the past couple weeks the desire to buy a rock tumbler has infested my mind like a gaggle of college students at a swanky new malt shoppe (is that still a thing?). Along with my Canadian grandfather's biography, I have been reading my grandpa's (true blue, through and through) biography, as written by his children (mostly American patriots, but I can't be sure). It has summoned up in me the desire to follow in his footsteps. Grandpa was a man of integrity, honesty, and pure adventuring spirit. But those seemed like difficult attributes to work toward (except the adventuring spirit, which I possess in triplicate), so I decided instead to just take on his hobby of rock polishing.
Soon I will be tricking my brother into thinking these are candy!
I figured that, by the end of the day, the spirit of old Gramps would have permeated my soul as we bonded over the polished stones rolling out of the tumbler like a cascading waterfall of dead rats.
So precious! Now add a billion more and kill them.
But, as it turns out, old Gramps (that sly, all-American, dyed-in-the-wool, devil!) was going to teach me his most important attribute: Patience. Each of the four steps of rock polishing takes at least five days (according to the guide book, the guide book which this adventurer is tempted to toss out). So I'll be waiting more than three weeks for each load of polished stones.
I guess Grandpa had a lot of time on his hands? I'm a busy guy (I'm not (really, like, not at all))! But now I've got a good reason to go for evening walks by the stream, picking out smooth stones and just enjoying nature. Also, if the stone is smooth enough, I get to skip the first week-long tumble (BONUS!).
Conclusion: Adventure in progress! Also, Gramps was sly...sly as a cheetah in a turtle shell!
I really wish I had a picture of that to put right here. Instead, I have this for the next time you jump a battery:
Wish me luck, fellow adventurer!