There’s always a bit of a pause when I answer the phone from my child (the beauty of caller-ID). The pause is there to wonder...what’s going on. Typically kids don’t call to “chat.” They don’t call to “see how your day is going” or “what’s for dinner tonight.” If they’re calling you it’s for a reason and, for a moment, I catch myself wondering.
A couple months ago my daughter called. I paused. She was in tears. She had been in a car accident. A number of months before that she had called, in tears, because she had broken up with her boyfriend (now back together). And over the past couple days it was two calls: “I can’t get my TV to work.” And. “I got a flat tire.”
The flat tire one was a doozy and here’s why. At 7 a.m. Saturday morning I was planning on picking up my friend Jason (who flew in from Springfield, MA) and we were heading up to Bellingham to meet with another friend, Cami, and two people from Western Washington University, to start working on a play that Jason, Cami and I came up with. This has been scheduled for months. Flight arrangements, angry words, minor scheduling stuff had been changed and exchanged and now my daughter was in trouble with a flat tire.
I know what you’re thinking: “Just change it.” And, in all honesty, that was the plan but, truth be told, I’ve maybe only changed 4 tires in my laugh and it scares the living crap out of me. Think about it. You have to find the “jack” which I can never tell which way is up. Then you have to find the METAL under the car. In these newer cars the metal is harder and harder to find. Then you have to arrange it and take the crow bar or the metal thingy and you have to crank the car up. A two ton car now rests on 4 inches of metal and you’re practically UNDER the car twisting a metal bar. Fear of car dropping is a real fear: Cardroponyourfaceitis – and worse, I’d have to do this at 11 p.m. at night. That was when Michelle got off work...AND it had to be done tonight because, not only did I have my trip, but Michelle was driving herself and Miriam to a show in downtown Seattle...but...I don’t want her driving on a spare AND she had to work at 9 a.m. Everything was pointing straight to the fact that I’d be getting my sorry ass up to Everett at 11 p.m. and attempting to change a tire while the car waits until juuuuuuust the right moment to fall and crush me.
LEMMON, JACK
Sigh.
I called Miriam and told her my plan: 1. Go up to Michelle at 11 p.m. 2. Put spare on. 3. Michelle drive to OUR house, drop car off. 4. Miriam drives Michelle to work up in Everett in our car. 5. Miriam drives Michelle’s car to tire place Saturday morning. 6. Miriam uses Michelle’s car to pick Michelle up from work. 7. Go to the show. 8. While I hang out in Bellingham with friends getting drunk off of Two-Buck Chuck from Trader Joe’s.
This would have to be the plan because I just can’t go up to Michelle’s work. It’s not like she can pop out for a minute and give me her key. She’s got “at risk youth” to deal with and who knows when one is going to throw another through a window...
Miriam talked me down and explained that we HAD a key to Michelle’s car. It would be fine. I go up there and get the car and go to a tire place and get two new tires: “NOT THE CHEAP ONES, something good. You know, Michelin or something.” But where to get the tires? Well, we quickly found out that tire places like “Les Schwab” or “Discount Tires” have banker’s hours and close at 6 p.m. Really? No one needs a tire after 6 p.m.? Our only choice was Costco since they were open until 8:30 but, as I talked to the guy he was like: “Uh, you have to bring it in before 8:30 because, you know, we need to work on it.” Yes, of course.
So now... here was the plan. 1. Sneak out of work 10 minutes early. 2. Get on bus. 3. Catch 2nd bus. 4. Go to “O’Reilly’s Auto Parts” – get some tire-fill stuff. 5. Drive up to Michelle’s work. 6. Inflate tire. 7. Drive to Costco. 8. Replace tires. 9. Drop car off with Michelle. 10. Go home. All well before midnight.
Just as I was about to sneak out, I got a call from a secretary asking for help – so ended up staying...strike one...left at 5 p.m. and ran to catch my bus...which was on time(!) but then missed the 2nd bus which added another 7 minutes to my walk home. Got to “O’Reilly’s” and got the tire fill stuff. Then, with GPS in hand, off to Everett.
Problem. The GPS was stuck. Stuck in the last location. Stuck. STUCK! It’s telling me that I’m near Ballinger and it’s giving me “street” directions to Michelle’s work but...that’s it. It’s not GOING. It’s not speaking to me. It’s not making sounds. It’s just THERE. I’d have to find my way to her place.
Lucky for me the freeway was clear and the drive was uneventful but then...it started raining. And now I had the fear that I would be huddled by Michelle’s car in the pouring rain. Why would it have to rain...now?
With the GPS on the fritz, I “kinda” remembered where Michelle worked and drove down the wrong block and then turned around in school parking lot. At this point the rain turned to pea-size and marble-sized hail and I was just happy to be in a pelted car and not trying to fix a flat.
Also, there was a point where Michelle had a concern that everyone was going to be leaving her work to go somewhere and she was worried about me working on the tire if the girls saw me. So could I come at...say...7? Sure, but it was now 6:20 and I was within a stone’s throw’s vicinity of her place and in a massive deluge of ice and rain (two days prior it was in the mid ‘80s!).
She would just have to deal if the girls saw me poking around her tire.
Using the Mapquest map I had from her place to Costco, I figured it out and found her car. With a lapse in Storm Ida, and like a stealthy rouge auto mechanic, I grabbed the “tire fill” and ran to the car. Hopefully no one will see me – maybe more like a ninja tire assistant. “Tire fill” screwed on, I push the green button and the tire starts filling...kinda...and the green stuff is going in...kinda...and the tire lifts off the ground...kinda. Then, as the can gave it's last green breath of foam and air, I tried in vain to get it off. With the wetness from the weather, my cold hands, the green slime, etc. it took me multiple twists before I finally got any sort of grip - the fear of Michelle and kids coming out any moment. Finally, I got it off.
The instructions on the can specifically say: “You can drive for 2 to 4 miles.” Costco is 2.5 miles away – fully within the range but the amount of air is JUUUUUUUUUUST enough to get the rim off the ground. Not to, you know, actually FILL the tire. It would have to do...but then I remembered: There was a shell station just around the corner from her work. I would go there and fill it up the rest of the way. Surely that would work or, at the very least, give me enough to get to Costco then “tire fill” would.
I pulled into the gas station and filled the tire up as much as I could. I could hear air escaping from somewhere. Certainly this wasn’t going to work. Certainly it would blow up in my face. Certainly, somehow, even without a jack, the car would levitate and crush me anyway.
Tire full – or maybe even OVER full – I jumped in the car and sped off to Costco. And, I swear, even from inside the car – I could hear the air escaping like a hissing rubber snake of death. I waited for any moment to either hear an explosion or just a thump and then a thumpa-thumpa-thumpa as the tired collapses into bleah.
Luckily...it stayed inflated and I got to Costco and everything worked out from there (other than the fact that Costco’s power went out and I had to wait 15 minutes for the cash registers to reboot) damn you storm! Keeping me away from my Polish Dog and, just to splurge, the fruit sundae.
On Sunday I helped fix her TV, too. WIN!
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