Valley Forge Park Preserves A Crucible Of The American Revolution
Valley Forge is a testament to the dedication of the thousands who sacrificed themselves for liberty, their homeland, and their posterity.Valley Forge is a testament to the dedication of the thousands who sacrificed themselves for liberty, their homeland, and their posterity.The four Americans who just restored my faith in 'customer service'
“Yes, Mister Josh, I understand your concern and assure you that I will offer the highest-quality service to resolve your problem.”
At least, I think that’s what “Lakshmi” said in her thick Indian accent. But what does it matter? Every company that hires Bangladeshi call centers to “serve” American customers is really only saying one thing — and it isn’t “thank you, come again.”
I was hearing a young-middle-age American female voice with the pleasant but not obsequious tone I haven’t heard in customer service since 1999.
It’s not Lakshmi’s fault. She’s just doing her job, and she’s just a normal person trying to get paid. But I don’t want to hear her singsong, robotic repetition of an unctuous phone script. I want what I paid for, without excuses and without having to battle an AI phone tree and then strain to understand someone who barely speaks English.
But this article is actually about the blessed, wondrous competence of American workers, so let me put the bitterness away and tell you what happened.
Susan and Jennifer happened. And thank God, because I was at the end of my tether in a freezing-cold house trying to convince someone on the Indian subcontinent that possible propane leaks in a Vermont winter were serious business.
Spoiler: There was no leak, but we’ll get to that.
Mousetrap
Last week I thought there was a dead animal in the house. That smell must have been a mouse corpse that one of the cats snagged but never ate. Surely it was under the bed or under the chest of drawers. That’s where Mina the tabby was racing around at night, yowling, with her claws scrabbling on the wood floors.
She’s an excellent mouser, and it’s a good thing, because country houses have critters. This is the beginning of my third year living on a dirt road in the sticks after a lifetime of city living. Those first few years teach citified boys like me a lot of lessons about what nature and the real world are like outside “comfy” urban areas. You better keep your well pump in good order, or you don’t drink or wash. Better have water backup for when the power goes out.
After hours of pulling out furniture and crawling around with a flashlight, I couldn’t find the dead varmint. But I did find out that the rotten-egg smell was coming from the valve joint in the copper pipe that feeds propane into my cast-iron heat stove.
Propane users, you’re going to laugh, I know. But I assumed quite reasonably that this meant I had a leak. After shutting off the tap on the outdoor tank and closing the valve indoors, I called the nationally known brand-name fuel company that I use.
That’s when Lakshmi “entered the chat.” Imagine my irritated surprise when my call to the American company — it has a transfer station and local drivers right across the river; I can see it from my back yard — got routed to Bangladesh.
Subcontinental shuffle
No, you cannot reach the local people directly. Yes, I have tried. You must call the national number and get transferred to Bangladesh, which then acts as an intermediary. Only the call center can know the local phone number, apparently. If you do find a local number and call it, and it’s after hours or a weekend, you get a robot lady telling you how sorry she is and how you’ll have to call the 800 number. You guessed it: Back to Bangladesh.
The company’s phone script claims to take possible leaks seriously. It claims to be “sending an emergency technician right away.” But you can’t really know this. You just have to trust that Rohan or Lakshmi really did call the people who are located 500 yards from your house, that those people know who you are, and that they really will come to your house.
No, you may not have the contact number. No, they will not guarantee you that the driver or tech will call you with an ETA. You just have to “trust” them.
One hour goes by. Two. Three. Four. Five. Every hour, I call the company back and work hard to keep my voice pleasant and groveling enough that they’ll deign to continue speaking to me. Give these people one excuse, and they’ll leave you stranded and freezing. And with every call, I have to repeat the same “verification procedures” of reciting my name, address, billing address, phone number, and last four of my SSN just to get these people to be willing to talk to me.
“We have dispatched someone,” said Lakshmi/Rohan every time I called. They won’t tell me who. They won’t tell me an ETA. They don’t actually care that I’m starting to freeze my backside off.
But Susan cared.
RELATED: Pizza Hut Classic: Retro fun ruined by non-English-speaking staff, indifferent customer service
Sweet competence
On the fifth call to the national number, I thought I must have been dreaming. “Hi there, thanks for calling Nationally Known Fuel Company. I’m Susan. How can I help you today?”
“Are you really a live person?” I asked. I thought it was a trick. I was hearing a young-middle-age American female voice with the pleasant but not obsequious tone I haven’t heard in customer service since 1999.
“Yes,” Susan laughed.
I thanked her for being human and explained the situation. She was immediately riled.
“Are you serious? It’s been five hours since you first called us?” she asked, sounding genuinely incredulous. “That is not acceptable. It’s winter there, and I’m from Vermont. Hold on. I’m going to call the local dispatch manager personally.”
I almost cried over the competence of it. That interaction used to be common. If you’re 50 or older, this is the customer service you remember for most of your life. But it’s as rare as hen’s teeth today.
Voice of America
True to her word, Susan called the local dispatch manager, Jennifer. In a few minutes, Jennifer was calling me. And then everything got better.
“I am so sorry you’ve been waiting so long,” Jennifer said. I could tell she was my age, and from her particular American accent, she sounded just like the gals I went to high school with. Solid, no-nonsense Gen X.
It turned out that Jennifer had a much worse day than I did. She had been up all night alone in the dispatch office due to short staff. Between getting a snooze on the cot, she was trying to get propane trucks out to freezing customers who ran out. The main local truck broke down, leaving the rookie delivery guy stranded. She couldn’t find the emergency technician.
Jennifer told me all this to explain why everything was FUBAR, but she didn’t tell me in order to excuse the problem. She focused on getting me back up and running, but wanted me to know that if she had her way, none of her customers would have had to go through the hassle.
It gets better. Jennifer explained to me that I almost certainly did not have a propane leak. The odor, she explained, happens because fuel companies add an offensive odorant to the propane as a safety measure and a supply alert. When a propane tank runs low, the odorant that settles to the bottom of the tank vaporizes and becomes very apparent around the appliance. Yeah, technically, that means something is “leaking,” but in such tiny amounts that no one is getting poisoned.
“When you smell that, it almost always means your tank is about to give out. I regularly stop techs from running out to people, because it’s never a leak; it’s a delivery problem.”
Jennifer and I decided I didn’t need a tech (I already knew I was safe, having shut off all valves and airing out the house as precaution), but just a delivery.
“I’m looking at your account, and you’re due for a fill tomorrow. It was so cold in December, you probably went through it faster like everyone else. I’m gonna get Dickie out to you this afternoon.”
Neighborly help
She was right. Dickie got here, and my tank was on fumes. He laughed at me good-naturedly because I thought I had a leak, but I told him this was a first-time city-boy-goes-country lesson for me.
But it gets even better. Paul, another local, called me later to apologize for the delay and frustration. I told Paul that Jennifer had explained what happened and that I felt just as bad for all of them with the troubles they were having.
Paul insisted on giving me a $300 tank of propane for free as an apology. Wow.
Here’s the lesson for American companies. I nearly canceled my contract with this nationally known company. If they want to shunt American customers to a call center drone around the world, then they don’t want my business. There are plenty of other companies I can use.
But I’m sticking with them for now because of Susan, Jennifer, Dickie, and Paul. All of these people are Americans, and they’re local to me. I probably pass them in the grocery store in Montpelier. They know what winters are like, and they treated me as they would want their families treated in a situation like this.
Those four competent, pleasant Americans are the reason I’m going to stay a customer, at least for now. I want them to keep their jobs. My decision to remain a customer is not unconditional. If I have to deal with Lakshmi again in an emergency, I’m done. I can walk into five local, family-owned fuel dealers any day of the week and actually speak to an American who is my neighbor.
“Globalization” is a con job by corporations who see themselves as “global corporate citizens” because it pays them more to treat their customers like trash than it does to provide good service. So far, we American customers haven’t found a way to make the market punish them into better behavior. I wish I knew how we could.
No cheap prices are worth the aggravation of living in this fantasy world where we pretend a Hindi speaker across the globe is just as capable of keeping my Vermont house warm as someone who lives here. God bless those local Americans.
Modern life isn't so bad (even if my furnace is out again)
Every year, at the coldest time of the year, our furnace goes out. I’ve written about it before, I’m writing about it now, and I’m sure I’ll write about it again. Benjamin Franklin said, “In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.” I say, “In this world, nothing is certain except winter — and our furnace breaking.”
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about modernity: not just as an era, but as a way of life, and as a particular relationship we have with technology and the natural world. Winter has a way of provoking those thoughts. It’s unforgiving outside and warm inside, and that contrast shapes not only our environment but our state of mind. Winter invites introspection whether we ask for it or not.
You don’t actually want to go back to 1198 or 1598. At most, you want to go back to 1998 — before things took such a strange turn.
It also reminds us of something more basic: Winter wants to kill us.
Cold truth
Without insulated homes, reliable transportation, and warm clothing, many of us simply wouldn’t make it. Maybe that isn’t true everywhere. It’s not true in places with mild winters. But it is true here, where the temperature tonight is expected to dip to ten below zero. In places like this, modernity doesn’t just make life comfortable — it makes it possible.
That’s easy to forget. I turn the thermostat up and the furnace obeys. I want it to be 67 degrees, and it becomes 67 degrees. No delay, no doubt. I can count on warmth in the same way I count on the sun rising tomorrow — until I can’t. Then the house turns cold, the basement office becomes unusable, space heaters migrate upstairs, and our seemingly invincible HVAC world collapses all at once. Annoyance quickly turns into perspective.
The furnace, of course, is only one small example. This isn’t really about heating systems or cold weather; it’s about how easily we take the blessings of the modern world for granted.
RELATED: Why does our furnace go out every winter? (and other burning questions)
No thanks
We all do it. Whatever we have now quickly becomes the baseline. We stop remembering what life was like without it. You see this with people who move to America from poorer parts of the world. After a decade, they are often just as accustomed to convenience as those born into it. You might expect memories of hardship to linger, but they rarely do. Perhaps death once sat closer to daily life, even in developed societies, and kept gratitude sharper. Perhaps something else has changed. Either way, ingratitude seems to come naturally to us now.
Medicine is a clear example. How many of us would be dead without modern medical care? Many. Imagine surgery without anesthesia. Imagine life without optometry or dentistry. It’s not a romantic picture.
The same goes for something as mundane as mail. People love to complain about the USPS, but in much of the world, a functioning postal system barely exists. I know someone who lived in Africa building embassies for the U.S. government, and he told me that local mail simply wasn’t usable. Here we send letters, order books, ship packages, and trust that they will arrive — and that if they don’t, someone will make it right. That trust is a modern miracle we barely notice.
Horse power
Or consider transportation. We can wax poetic about the romance of horse-drawn travel, but the truth is, we would hate it. It might charm us for a day or two, but before long, we’d be desperate to return to cars, trains, ferries, and planes. Modern speed isn’t just convenient — it reshapes what a human life can contain.
Lately I see a lot of anger directed at modernity itself. Some of it is understandable. There are technological and medical “advances” that drift away from the good and toward the destructive. That frustration is real, and I feel it too. But rejecting the modern world wholesale is neither wise nor serious. You don’t actually want to go back to 1198 or 1598. At most, you want to go back to 1998 — before things took such a strange turn.
Our task, then, isn’t to flee modernity, but to refine it. We cannot escape it — and we shouldn’t want to. The better path is gratitude without naivety: thankful for the blessings, alert to the dangers, and willing to curb excess without denying reality. If we do that, we may yet manage to build not just a modern world, but a good one.
5 Ways I’m Prepping For Thanksgiving, Advent, And Christmas Right Now
Mothers are the festivity makers of the home and the world, and making holidays is quite a big production.Cold plunge: How I survive winters in the sticks
City people moving to the country: This one’s for you. Country people, you know all this and a lot more already, so be sure to correct anything I get wrong with a comment; thank you in advance.
After spending all of my life living in cities and towns, I’ve got two winters of rural living under my belt. My house in Vermont is only a few miles outside the capital (itself a mere village of 8,000), so it’s situated conveniently for supply runs. But I live past where the pavement turns to dirt and the water, sewer, and natural gas lines end.
What to do for light? Kerosene lamps. No, not candles. No, not rechargeable LED lights. No, not battery-powered flashlights. Kerosene lamps.
It’s not “off grid,” but the situation shares some of the same features, and you need to attend to some of the same preparation.
Being prepared is especially important in winter, but it will help in summer, too.
The philosophy to keep in mind: Preparing should aim for low tech, not high tech. Kerosene lamps and lanterns, not “solar rechargeable LED lights,” for example. (Where are you going to recharge them? What happens when the computerized chip doesn’t work right?)
Aim for manual, simple devices, not high-tech “survival gadgets.”
If you live in a sparsely populated area in the country with hard winters, you are going to lose power several times in winter. And you’re going to be among the last houses to have it restored because power companies prioritize areas with the most people. In Vermont, I’ve gone two or three days without electricity each winter.
How much of your day will be affected by this, and how do you prepare for it? Since my stove is electric, I can’t cook on it without juice. But wait — no running water, either. Why? Because the water comes from a well, and an electric pump brings it into the house.
It’s one thing to have no internet and lights but entirely another to have nothing to flush the toilet with.
Water
Stock up drinkable water jugs, lots of them, for cooking and drinking. Only for cooking and drinking. You’re going to use “gray water” for other things.
Have a rain barrel to catch water to use for flushing toilets and cleaning. Have buckets on hand. Fill them up.
Fill up your bathtub with water when a storm threatens.
This year, I resorted to melting snow in a stock pot on a portable camp stove.
I’m considering adding a hand pump to my drilled well next year. Do you remember the episode of "Little House on the Prairie" when Pa installed a water pump in Ma’s sink for the first time? Yep, that kind of pump. They’re a great backup for getting water out of the ground when the electric pump is off.
Husband your water wisely. Use your drinking water only for drinking and cooking, not for washing yourself or your dishes. Use “gray water” — the stuff in the rain barrel, the water stored in your tub — for washing dishes, flushing toilets, and other utility purposes.
Be prepared to give yourself sponge baths with a modest amount of water.
Light
What to do for light? Kerosene lamps. No, not candles. No, not rechargeable LED lights. No, not battery-powered flashlights. Kerosene lamps.
Why? Admittedly, I’m partisan as I collect and refurbish kerosene lamps and regularly run them for heat and light. But they’re superior to other backup lighting. Much brighter than candles, and they don’t need batteries (you just have to keep a stock of kerosene on hand). Also, they’re beautiful.
Some guidelines:
- Buy only clear, undyed kerosene at either the gas station or hardware store. Never use anything but this. Do not use “lamp oil.” It’s liquid wax, burns dim, eats wicks, and stinks. Kerosene does not stink in a lamp if it’s clean and undyed.
- Simple flat wick oil lamps, antique or modern, are foolproof.
- Those wanting more heat and light should get an antique “center draft” lamp with a big, round wick that puts out substantial light and heat. A good bet is a Rayo-brand lamp, easily found on eBay.
- No, you don’t have to worry about “fumes” or “carbon monoxide.” This is modern hysteria; you’re not afraid of your gas stove, so you don’t have to fear your lamp. Your ancestors who used these weren’t dying of carbon monoxide poisoning.
Heat
If you already have an expensive heating system in place, I get that you’re not going to change that out.
When I moved into this house, I had the “blessing” of starting from scratch as the downstairs had been flooded. If you're in a similar position, I strongly advise installing something that requires no electricity.
I mean no electricity at all. Not for igniting, not for running. If it needs juice to put out heat, it’s too modern and complicated to be a good basic choice in the country.
I chose a propane-fired “fireplace stove.” It’s a beautiful cast iron piece enameled in red with a glass front; it looks like a late-19th-century wood stove. The operation is entirely mechanical, even the wall-mounted thermostat. It has its own igniter but can be lit with a match if necessary. It maintains a standing pilot light.
Whatever you choose, I recommend a basic model that ignites and fires without electricity. If this means you have to buy a vintage furnace in good or refurbished condition, then yes, that is a better choice.
Good emergency supplies of heat are portable kerosene or propane heaters. Be sure to keep a supply of fuel on hand.
Cooking and eating
If you have an electric kitchen stove, you’ll need a backup. I love my two-burner Coleman propane camping stove. It’s compact and folds up neatly for storage. That the burners put out serious heat is a bonus. Keep extra propane cylinders on hand.
Of course, you’ll also need to have nonperishable food on hand. Vegetables and grains aren’t going to get you through alone; don’t forget meat and fat. Canned goods are your friend in this situation, especially canned meat.
People’s minds seem to go toward “buy lots of dried beans and rice,” and I don’t know why. These are not the high-quality proteins you can get from meat (and they don’t have necessary fat), and they take more water and energy to cook.
I suggest laying in:
- Canned chicken breast and tuna
- Canned corned beef
- Canned Spam-type meat
Be sure to keep some bacon grease or lard on hand. It doesn’t need refrigeration and can cook just about anything, adding necessary animal fat and calories.
Transportation
Don’t forget about your car.It’s always a good idea to keep your gas tank full during winter.
If you go off the road, you’ll be glad you have the engine to keep you warm. But it’s also a great backup for charging your phone so you can stay in communication while the power is out and the roads are bad.
Obviously, this isn’t a guide to true homesteading or living off the grid, but it can help you get through a few days or weeks of living in the sticks without power and running water. If you’re an old hand at this and have wisdom to pass along, please share it in the comments.
Tennessee Valley Authority gets a Trump-style reckoning
President Donald Trump has made the Tennessee Valley Authority a key front in his America First energy agenda. With the authority to appoint and remove TVA directors, Trump hasn’t hesitated to fire those who promote globalist “green” schemes that ignore the needs of the region’s residents.
This month, Trump ousted two Biden-appointed directors, including the board’s chairman. Their offense: trying to turn the TVA into a vehicle for the radical left’s anti-carbon agenda.
The future of reliable energy across the Tennessee Valley — and much of the South — still hangs in the balance.
Trump took similar action during his first term, firing several directors, including a previous chairman, after they approved outsourcing 146 American tech jobs to foreign workers on H-1B visas.
These firings are critical to ensuring that the Tennessee Valley Authority continues to produce abundant and reliable energy for the seven states it serves.
A call for reform
Last month, Sens. Marsha Blackburn (R-Tenn.) and Bill Hagerty (R-Tenn.) published a joint letter voicing their concerns about the agency’s distracted leadership. They stressed the need for the energy provider to expand nuclear projects, especially small modular reactors, which utilize existing fission technology on a smaller, more deployable scale than the massive projects of decades past.
As to the incapable leadership of the existing Tennessee Valley Authority board, the senators wrote:
As it stands now, TVA and its leadership can’t carry the weight of this moment. The presidentially appointed, Senate-confirmed TVA Board of Directors lacks the talent, experience, and gravitas to meet a challenge that clearly requires visionary industrial leaders. The group looks more like a collection of political operatives than visionary industrial leaders. The current TVA board focused on the diversity of its executives ahead of job creation for hungry workers in the region it is supposed to serve.
Shortly thereafter, Trump fired two of the agency’s six current directors.
A critical purge
Trump fired Michelle Moore on March 27, followed by TVA board Chairman Joe Ritch on April 1. Both were Biden-appointed green energy enthusiasts bent on turning the Tennessee Valley Authority into a utopian solar-and-battery experiment.
Had they succeeded, the consequences for the region’s energy reliability would have been disastrous.
Moore founded and runs Groundswell, a “sustainable energy” company whose mission statement boasts a “people-centric approach to developing community solar projects.” I’m not sure what that means — but I know I’d rather depend on coal, natural gas, or nuclear power than on some feel-good solar scheme when temperatures plunge below freezing.
Ritch, originally appointed to the TVA board by President Obama, returned under Biden’s nomination to serve as chairman. In his Senate confirmation statement, Ritch promoted transitioning the agency away from its current mix of coal, nuclear, hydro, and gas toward unreliable green alternatives — convinced, somehow, that it would help the environment and boost the economy.
A historic blunder
This utopian obsession with “sustainable energy” isn’t just naïve — it’s deadly. In December 2023, a hard freeze struck the Tennessee Valley Authority’s service area. The cold snap wasn’t historically extreme, but the consequences were.
For the first time in TVA history, the agency failed to produce enough electricity to meet demand. Rolling blackouts swept the region. Why? Because the TVA lacked enough baseline reliable energy. On those near-zero nights, solar energy produced exactly zero kilowatts.
That’s the future TVA customers would face under the fantasy energy plans pushed by climate zealots like Michelle Moore and Joe Ritch: blackouts in the dead of winter and no backup.
TVA leadership has failed in other ways too — most notably by outsourcing American jobs. In 2020, CEO Jeff Lyash tried to replace over 100 U.S. tech workers with foreign nationals on H-1B visas. While gutting working-class jobs, Lyash collected nearly $8 million a year, making him the highest-paid federal employee. One longtime worker said employees were expected to train their foreign replacements before being shown the door.
Trump responded immediately. While he couldn’t fire Lyash, he could — and did — remove board members who refused to act. When the board wouldn’t fire Lyash or cut his pay, Trump fired them instead.
Soon after, Lyash ended the outsourcing plan. Following Trump’s 2024 election win, Lyash saw the writing on the wall and resigned.
Protections are still needed
The Tennessee Valley Authority remains vital to the economic strength of the upper South. Trump’s removal of Obama-Biden-era appointees has played a key role in preserving the agency’s reliability and focus. But the threat isn’t gone.
The TVA’s service states — especially Tennessee — face a serious vulnerability: Any future Democrat president could again install green energy ideologues, fire current directors, and impose Green New Deal policies. The result? An energy-starved Tennessee Valley plagued by blackouts and foolish political experiments.
Trump’s stand against the radicalization of TVA energy policy deserves recognition. His pushback has protected millions of residents from rolling blackouts and economic self-sabotage. But the fight isn’t finished.
The future of reliable energy across the Tennessee Valley — and much of the South — still hangs in the balance. The region cannot afford to treat Trump’s changes as a lasting victory.
Get your car ready for winter now before prices rise
We're midway through fall, and that means it's time — if you haven't gotten around to it yet — to do the automotive version of spring cleaning: a winter tune-up.
Everyone else is doing this too, so prices for services tend to increase this time of year — but you still may be able to save some money if you act sooner rather than later.
Getting your car maintenance done when the mileage points are met per the service schedule can save you up to $1,200 per year. You can do some repairs yourself, but if you have no clue what you are doing, find an ASE-certified mechanic or technician to do the work for you.
Scheduling maintenance early not only guarantees better service availability but also helps drivers budget more effectively.
Tire inspection and rotation
- Average cost: Typically ranges from $20 to $50 for rotation.
- Fall price difference: Prices can increase by 10%-20% due to higher demand as drivers prepare for winter conditions.
When it comes to your car, tires are one of the most important maintenance items to keep up on. With winter on the way, you’ll want to inspect each tire for any damage as well as check its tread depth. You'll also want to rotate all four tires to ensure even wear.
Brake inspection
- Average cost: Inspection is usually free, but replacing brake pads costs around $150-$300 per axle.
- Fall price difference: Prices can increase by 5%-15% as more drivers service their brakes in anticipation of harsher driving conditions.
Brakes, of course, should also be kept in tip-top running order. It’s not just the actual brakes themselves but the rotors, pads, and fluid levels that keep the whole system running smoothly.
Battery check
- Average cost: Battery testing is often free, but replacement costs between $75 and $200.
- Fall price difference: Prices may rise by 5%-10% due to higher demand and potential supply chain issues.
An easy check you can most likely do yourself or have done for very little money at the end of summer: test your battery. Does it have a charge? Does the terminal need cleaning? Is it on its last legs, ready to be replaced?
Do it while the weather is still relatively warm. The cold puts a strain on batteries, draining them even faster than normal. You do not want to be out in freezing temperatures on the side of the road because your battery died.
Fluid top-up and replacement
- Average cost: Oil changes usually cost $30-$70; coolant flushes around $100-$150.
- Fall price difference: Service prices may increase by 5%-10%.
Fluid checks, flushes, and replacements are another simple and fairly cheap set of fix-it jobs ... that is, if you do it now.
All you have to do is make sure your essential fluids — brake fluid, windshield washer fluid, coolant, and oil — are full and clean. Should they happen to be dirty or low, you can have a mechanic flush the old fluids and replace them with new fluid or top off the levels if they are a little low.
These fluids are like the life-blood of your car, crucial to the performance of the engine and stopping cold weather-related problems before they start. Waiting until it’s chilly will only add to the amount you’ll have to pay for fluid maintenance, so take care of it while the weather is still mild.
HVAC system check
- Average cost: Basic inspection costs around $50-$100.
- Fall price difference: Prices can rise by 10%-15% due to higher service demand.
You’ve probably been using your car’s air conditioning a lot this summer, but have you checked whether the heat is also working? What about whether the ventilation is allowing the right flow of air?
Better to do it now than wait until winter sets in and you are frozen in the driver’s seat. Those who do not will find long lines at their local mechanics and high prices as a cold comfort toward the end of the year.
Wiper blade replacement
- Average cost: New wiper blades cost around $20-$50.
- Fall price difference: Prices typically remain stable but may see slight increases.
It's easy to tell when your wiper blades have kicked the bucket. However, this problem can seem less urgent during an Indian summer. But by the time leaves, rain, and snow start falling, it will be too late.
Ask your local mechanic to take care of it today or do it yourself to save a few extra bucks.
Neglecting any one of these repairs can leave you on the side of the road. Also, being proactive will save you money. Waiting almost always means much higher costs down the line in the form of more extensive repairs or lost resale value if you blow it off.
Today's top stories
www.theblaze.com
www.theblaze.com