The first night, I parked it up near the National Mall, about six blocks from our hotel. The next morning, Norma and I walked up to get the bus to start our tour. When I climbed in through the emergency door, there were two young mall bums sleeping in there. They grabbed their things and took off.

I put the key in the ignition and turned it on. Nothing happened. I looked around and saw that all the heater switches were turned on. The battery was dead! I tried drifting backwards and catching it in reverse; it didn’t work.

We walked down the street and saw a guard standing in front of a building. I asked him where I could find a garage. He said, “There are no garages in the city. You will have to go about 30 miles.” Then he asked, “What is the problem?” I said, “I have a dead battery.” He said, “Flag down a taxicab. They all carry jumper cables.”

I flagged one down and he took me up to the bus. He asked me, “Where is your car?” I answered, “It’s the bus I want jumped.” His eyes got as big as saucers. He turned pale and said, “I can’t jump that big thing!” I said, “Yes, you can. The battery isn’t much larger than a car battery.”

After about five minutes, it started right up. I asked the cab driver, “How much do I owe you?” He answered, “Nothing. It’s a courtesy.” I thanked him and gave him a big tip.

After that little episode, I disconnected the battery cables when I parked the bus overnight.