Batchellerville Breakdown

This short story is from <Heartwarming Collection of Short Stories for Seniors: 2 Books in 1> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all. –Helen Keller

Marjorie and Frank, both in their late 70s, set out for what was supposed to be a peaceful, scenic drive over the Batchellerville Bridge. The weather was perfect, and Marjorie had even packed a picnic basket for lunch at the park on the other side of the lake. Frank grumbled, as he always did, but Marjorie knew he secretly enjoyed these little outings.

The Batchellerville Bridge stretched across the sparkling water, and as they reached the middle, Marjorie sighed contentedly. “Isn’t this lovely, Frank? Just like when we were young.”

Before Frank could respond, the car gave a sputter, lurched, and came to a dead stop, right in the middle of the bridge. Frank groaned. “Well, this is just great.”

“Oh, relax. The view’s beautiful. Maybe the car’s just giving us more time to enjoy it.” Marjorie, unbothered, looked out at the view. Frank, on the other hand, was already fumbling for the door handle.

“I’ll check the engine. I’m sure it’s just a little problem.”

“Frank, you haven’t fixed a car since the ‘80s. Let it rest.” Marjorie snorted.

Ignoring her, Frank popped the hood and stared blankly at the engine. He poked around, tugging on a few cables while muttering under his breath about “back in my day.” Marjorie stayed in the car, watching with amusement.

“Find anything yet, Mr. Mechanic?”

Before Frank could retort, a jogger passed by, and the young man stopped and offered help. Frank, ever the proud one, hesitated.

“I think I’ve got it, but—uh, sure, if you want to take a look,” he said. The jogger took a glance and shook his head.

“I think it’s the alternator. You’re gonna need a tow.”

“See? Even the young man knows this car isn’t going anywhere.” Marjorie leaned out of the window.

As the jogger jogged away, Frank slammed the hood shut, frustrated. Just as they contemplated their next move, a family in a boat passed underneath the bridge. Marjorie, always the problem-solver, waved them down.

“Could you give us a tow from below?” she shouted.

“A boat towing a car? That’s ridiculous!” Frank’s eyes widened.

“More ridiculous than you pretending to know what an alternator is?” Marjorie joked, smiling.

The family tied a rope from their boat to the car’s bumper, but after a few minutes of futile tugging, the boat barely budged the car. Marjorie laughed so hard she almost fell out of her seat. Frank muttered something about “damn fool ideas.”

Just when it seemed they’d be stranded on the bridge forever, an elderly woman pulled up in a sleek car. She hopped out, phone in hand.

“Need a hand? I’ve got roadside assistance on speed dial.”

“You can get service out here?” Frank blinked.

“Satellite phone,” she said with a wink, dialing the number. “You’re lucky I’m prepared for everything.”

Within half an hour, the tow truck arrived, and their car was finally hauled off the bridge to the nearby park. Frank sulked, but Marjorie set up the picnic, laughing at the absurdity of the day.

“Well,” Marjorie said between bites of her sandwich, “at least we’ll never forget today.”

“Next time, we’re taking the bus.” Frank sighed, glancing at the now-empty bridge.

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