Flat Tire Tuesday

Yesterday was a day to remember.  Well, parts of it would be great to forget, but the other parts were good.

I woke up early but then fell back to sleep and didn’t get up until 8 a.m.  Good.

I tried to take care of printing and filling out some forms and our country Internet can just drive me crazy sometimes and I didn’t get that job fully done.  Forget.  Until today when I have to try it again. 

I went out to mow the pasture and edges of the yard and I love mowing so…  Good.

I quickly became covered from head to toe with gritty dust and dry plant stuff from a way too dry summer.  Forget.

Showers can feel extra good at times.  Good.

I quickly ran a comb through my sopping wet hair and threw on a little skimpy sundress because all I had to do was get Jack picked up in like 13 minutes from summer school.  Neutral.

I got to the QT intersection in town and my van suddenly acted weird and would barely go and I thought maybe my transmission was dropping out or a belt was off or something.  Forget.

I was able to pull over into the empty, old DoIt Center parking lot and got out to see I had a totally flat tire, I mean down to the rim flat.  Forget.

I quickly called another mom I knew would be at pick up and told her where I was and asked if she would please pick up Jack for me.  She said sure.  Good. 

I fiddled around in the van trying to figure out how to get the jack out and I talked to Gary at work who told me to get the van jacked asap or the tire would be ruined.  And I still was having trouble with the jack so I got out my manual.  And this reminded me of how last week Gary had a tire going down on the car and we discussed about how I should do a practice tire changing just in case I needed to on my own someday and then I internally cursed that whole jinxing conversation.  Forget.

My friend Joanne pulled up in her van with Jack and her son, and she had a little air compressor thingy for us to try.  It was kinda a comedy of errors with us figuring that thing out—start the van, plug it into the lighter thing, no, turn off the van, well, not completely, leave the key on to accessories.  Why isn’t the gauge showing any pressure?  Is this thing even making any air?  Take it off and put it back on again.  Ok, what is going on?  Let’s look at the instructions. Good, I guess because I wasn’t stranded alone and there definitely is some humor in watching two ladies trying to do something automotive when they don’t have a clue.

I notice a little weed blowing around like crazy on the pavement by the flat tire.  I put my hand up to it and yep, tons of air is moving through a hole in the sidewall of the tire.  Good, because this verifies the air compressor thing is working.  Forget, because I have a severely damaged tire.

A policeman pulls up and asks if I need any help and jumps right in to undo the lug nuts.  Good.

He can not get the lug nuts to budge and actually bent the tire tool trying.  I tell him that my husband rotates the tires himself because he can’t stand when the places use impact wrenches and get them on so tight, so he should be able to get them right off.  I think I insulted his officerly manhood.  He tells me to go across the street to the body shop for help.  I tell him that actually we deal with Dobb’s for tires and I will call them.  I think I insulted his officerly advice.  I get on my phone to Dobb’s and the officer abruptly leaves, without me saying thank you, bye, here’s another insult, nothing.  Forget.

Dobb’s is just a block away and says they’ll send someone right over.  He is an easy-going smiley younger guy that jumps right into the situation, seeming happy to help.  He takes over everything, pulling out his own real tire iron and cheater bar and finally gets those lug nuts off.  Good. 

Since then, I remember I had work done at the Honda Dealership not long ago and that explains the ultra-tight lug nuts and yeah, sorry, Officer.  Forget.

The tire guy has me suited up with the spare lickety-split and my friend has still been waiting around with me this whole time so she follows me to the tire place where I find out they will work on the tire this afternoon.  I offer everybody a Mexican lunch (now it’s 2 o’clock) and we do it.  Through all this I have been self-conscious about what I’m wearing because remember I was only planning on staying in the van to pick up Jack, a la skimpy dress.  Nevertheless, I go into the public restaurant and enjoy a burrito and the company of Jack, still in a surprisingly good mood, and our friends. Good.

Joanne drives us home and I immediately crashed on the bed, probably a stress-induced nap as I see it.  I wake up and by then it’s time to drive Jack into town for band practice.  Luckily we have a third vehicle sitting around, the truck, so no prob. Good.

I manage to kill the truck, stick-shift you know, at the intersection leaving the neighborhood while the old man who lives right there watches the truck rolling backwards as I try to get it under control.  I restart the truck and make a run for it up the incline and tell Jack we just won’t stop at the stop  sign.  And we do fine and are on our way.  Good.

I get him dropped off at high school and head over to the carwash because as mentioned, it’s dusty around here and Gary’s truck has been sitting undriven for who knows how long, and my leftover toll change from the Chicago trip on the weekend was right there in my purse.  I even drive to Dierberg’s for some groceries and make it back home without one other instance of killing it.  Plus, now the truck is looking shiny.  Well, as shiny as that old paint can look.  Good.

Gary’s already home from work so I make him a quick sandwich and right then Dave pulls in with a scout trailer to park and we chat for a bit with him and his wife and then I ask what time it is and it’s just a few minutes from 6:30, the time I was supposed to pick up the van with fixed tire so we rush off.  The tire place says my total is “Two-fifty” and I about have a cow because one tire?!  Then I sheepishly ask, “You mean two dollars and fifty cents?” And they say yeah.  The tire was not repairable but less than a year old with some hazard warranty for a free replacement so the $2.50 state of Illinois fee was the only charge.  Good. Good. Good.  (I might add to the goodness that the warranty would have been up on July 25 so if I had to have a ruined tire this was the time.) 

I made it on time to the band parents’ meeting at the high school at 7 pm.  I came out of the band meeting at 8, looking for Jack and became really worried when I couldn’t find him in the parking lot, the band room, no where.  Almost all the ~150 kids had cleared out and been picked up when I saw the same friend of Jack’s who had been part of the Mom-Son rescue team earlier and asked him in a mini-panic, “Do you know where Jack is?!”  And he said, “Well, didn’t he go to the swim test?” and I felt like the biggest doofus in the world since I am the one that made that arrangement for Gary to pick up Jack from band practice at 7:30 for his swim test and had confirmed with Gary just an hour ago on that plan.  Forget.

I headed over to the Y to see if Jack was done and he and Gary were walking out right then.  Jack passed.  We all headed home and I put on my pj’s, made a sandwich as my supper, and started to watch something with Gary and promptly fell asleep on the couch just over fourteen hours from when my day had started.  Good, except the couch part.

The main lesson I learned from my day is to be super grateful for your working cell phone and good friends and strangers and good businesses who are there to help you get through a Flat Tire Day.  

And don’t forget the Mexican food. 

To all, I say “gracias.”