Deep Cycle Batteries and Designer Donuts

April 30, 2017

I woke up this morning without power and a strong unnatural craving for donuts before realizing I still hadn’t put a new battery in the basement backup sump pump that the plumbers had installed a few months earlier. With more rain in the forecast, I set out on the watery roads to buy some donuts and a battery.

Starting out at AutoZone, a Parts Sales Representative looked around the store to make sure no one was listening and quietly suggested that I go down the street to the competition who had recently acquired Carquest. I had no idea what impact this acquisition had to do with obtaining a battery, but didn’t bother asking questions since the store was only a few blocks down the road, and I was in a hurry.

A few minutes later at Advanced Auto Parts, the Sales Representative didn’t waste any time telling me that I should go to Lowes where he had bought a battery that lasted for five years. He also threw in the fact that he couldn’t lift the battery himself because of his hands, wrists, shoulders, and back, but didn’t elaborate any further. He did indeed appear to be suffering some sort of arthritic, nervous system, or muscular affliction. I reminded myself that life was good and moved on.

I had driven past Lowes earlier but didn’t think the store carried batteries.  Although the batteries were in stock, they were out of the “battery fluid” required to activate the deep cycle battery, and I decided to push onward elsewhere.

My growling stomach, however, threw me off course. With the Donut Shop on Keystone just down the street, I put the battery search on hold and set my sites on obtaining breakfast hoping to return home a hero to my wife and son.

There was a slow long line busting out the front door of The Donut Shop. Making my way in to survey the situation, I noticed there weren’t many donuts left on the shelves, and the ones that were looked a bit disheveled. Checking the clock, I decided to leave the hangovers and nostalgia behind.

Back in my Jeep, there weren’t too many places to buy donuts popping up on my phone. My favorite bakery, Taylor’s, was closed. I hoped the Dunkin Donuts over on 86th and Ditch would have what I was looking for.

At the fast food of donuts, something in my inner being told me to run, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I ignored the frown from the girl pouring my coffee and bought a bag of donuts. Homeward bound, a bite into one of the donuts tasted so stale I put it back in the bag. My intuition had been overridden by hunger. Defeated I drove home hoping the power would be back on so I could fry some bacon and cook some eggs.

While on my way, I wondered what it would take to run a donut shop. The hours seemed worse than those of a morning paper boy, and all that grease and heat felt imaginatively dreadful. I wondered who could possibly enjoy such a job. 

As awful as the donuts I had just bought were, my experience of biting into one of them paled in contrast to having to work at such a place. I gave a quick internal thanks to the power and glory of the universe for all that I had right then.

Back home, the neighborhood was still without power, but Carmen and Buck were up, dressed, and ready for breakfast. I had already called and given Carmen the run down on how bad the donuts were. Perhaps I had not been compelling enough as she decided to take a bite into one of the chocolate covered, cream filled ones I had bought for her. It only took seconds before she was spitting it into the trash.

With my suspicions of lack of freshness confirmed, off we went ending up at the Dancing Donut on 54th Street near our old neighborhood of Sobro. On the front door was a sign that read, “Looking for Donut Fryer. Must be able to work 3rd shift on weekends.”

Five donuts, two milks, one coffee, cappuccino, charged phone and nearly thirty dollars later, I was cleaning icing off Buck’s satisfied face. Although the donuts were great, Carmen complained that they were a little pricy, but I chalked it up to simply “getting what you pay for”; a quality donut at market price.


When we got home, Buck and I set out on scooter and skateboard for the neighborhood of Royal Pines while Bruce and Carmen followed behind on foot. As we rode ahead, we stopped and cleared cut grass and twigs off storm drains to let the water from earlier rains pour in easier.

We hadn’t made it very far when it suddenly began to rain again. By the time we made it home, we were soaked and had to change clothes. At least the power came back on because I never did get back out to buy that backup battery.