Adventures In Tire Land
Tuesday and Wednesday were travel, and I guess, a bit of high adventure. But on Friday and Saturday it all became a pain in my Levi’s.
Friday Morning: I came out to the Toyota to transport my wife, the lovely and officially present, Dawn, and friends Carol and Martin, to a meeting where I was blissfully not needed. En route a sensor light came on telling me that I had a tire in need of air. We took a short detour to a nearby gas station and, for a buck we got the offending tire nice and plump again.
Come Saturday morning I took a peek at the car and I could see the tire in question was looking flabby again. It was time to have the tire repaired or replaced.
I stopped at an “AutoZone” store hoping that they might know some heretic who might be open. Their only Possibly, Maybe, Might Be Open place was a Wal-Mart 30 miles away. Those boys were not helpful.
Sunday: The tire was not healing itself and people were noticing it parked in a gimp spot outside our dormitory.
Note: There are fewer places open on Sunday than on Saturday around here.
One of the College Residential Associates – a young student named Mike, who looked to be about 12 years old, came by. I asked him if he thought that one of the Hyper-Large College Security guys might come by and change the flabby tire for me. I had a brand new “Donut tire” in the trunk.
Another Note: I don’t do stuff like change tires – that is why God invented the Auto Club, and Hyper-Large young men.
Young Mike chirped to me that he would be glad to do that job himself – if I could wait until 3:30 when his work as the Residential Associate would be done for the day. Well, I wasn’t going to be going anywhere.
At a little past 3:30 Young Mike showed up in his Pick-up Truck and he changed that tire. By the time he was done he was filthy from being on the ground and wresting with a tire that didn’t want to be changed. He looked like he had aged years – up to maybe 14.
I tried to reward him monetarily for his efforts, but with a smile, he declined saying that it was against policy to accept money for helping anyone. Since I didn’t have a pizza on me we just shook hands and he went on his way.
Monday: Objective: to get this tire fixed or replaced.
Young Mike had told me of a place right on the edge of the campus that could fix my tire. I went there. They were not open. As I stood outside their door scratching my head a woman, who was sitting on her porch next door to the alleged tire repair place, having a smoke and a cup of coffee, called out to me. She said that the garage was not open and that she had never seen them open.
Not wishing to pursue that question I asked her if she knew anyplace I might get my tire fixed. She did. It was a place about 10 minutes away and a stone’s throw from that AutoZone store I had visited a few days before.
Off I went and, Hallelujah and “Cap’ns Auto Parts” be praised. I was able to get my tire repaired. I don’t know if the elderly man I talked to there is, or ever was, an actual “Cap’n”, but he is certainly worthy of my salute.
I lift my coffee to honor both “Young Mike” and the “Cap’n.” Here’s to you both. Long may you wave.
I was happy again!