I stopped by Wallyworld on my home to see if they had the strange little device that lets you hook up a garden hose to the water intake port on the outdrive of a boat. I need a marine deep cycle battery as well and thought I would kill two birds with one stone, so down the florescently lit isles I went looking for boating supplies.
Not much luck, the six foot wide, three tier rack was filled with very little in the way of actual boat supplies, mostly rope, tie downs and assorted fishing pole holders and such. Well, at least I can get the battery here I thought to myself, so I picked up a 725 cold cranking amps battery and rolled the gray plastic cart to the checkout counter. While I was patiently waiting in line I saw what could only be described as a flash from my past.
I must admit to something right here and now, I was a huge AC/DC fan in high school. I actually sang in band with a few friends at one of our school assemblies. What did we play? Effin' AC/DC thats what! Sure we stunk, but bad AC/DC is better than a perfect rendition of any Lionel Ritchie song.
I remember we had a jukebox in the cafeteria, every morning you could be assured that someone would drop a quarter in to play Back in Black or Highway to Hell. Ah, there is nothing like three-cord power rock in the morning to get your blood pumping, except maybe Metallica.
Not only was I fan of their music, I was a collector of import AC/DC albums. I had the British and Australian import High Voltage just to name a few. Those vinyl records are long gone now and surprisingly enough I only have two or three AC/DC CDs in my collection. When I saw Angus in short pants holding that Gibson SG, I just had to buy it.
As I write this post I am listening to the bagpipe solo on "its along way to the top". A bagpipe solo? You darn right, that's music baby.
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