Blow Out...

08/17/2009

The Nancy and I had planned a trip to Winchester, Virginia on Saturday so she could get a pedicure.  I could hardly contain my excitement, until she told me afterward we could go to one of our new favorite places to eat and have a late lunch and some good beer.  I am a sucker for good beer and was immediately on board.

Having dropped her off at the Toe Palace, I decided to go to the local Lowes, about five miles away, and do a little shopping for man stuff.  Yep! You guessed it, along the way to Lowes I heard a pop and little by little the distinctive sound of a rolling flat tire sang its sad song to me.  After about a half mile of wop, wop, wop, I dare not have stopped on the road I was on, I pulled off into the shopping center to put on the spare. 

Tires never go flat at a convenient time, you know?  This was certainly no exception.  I was not dressed to change a flat tire, and the weather, at 92 degrees, was not exactly conducive for it, either.

The spare tire on my Jeep is underneath the car.  The location of the tire must have been designed by a psychopathic, masochistic, people hater.  And the person who hid the jack in the car wasn’t much better.  I had to get out the car’s manual to figure out where the jack was hidden, where to place it to raise the car, and how to unleash the spare.  The spare has to be cranked down from inside the car.  Then it has to be dragged out and unhooked from the cable.  By the time I got the flat tire off and the spare tire on the car, I was covered with greasy dirt up to my elbows.  My shirt was soaked with sweat and sweat was dripping off my nose and brow.  It was an enlightening experience, despite all the four letter words coming off my lips.

Later over a couple of beers, I realized the tire episode I created was done so the beer would be all the better, and each and everyone I had was better than the one before, making Saturday the Best Day Ever (that is before Sunday came).

And that is all I have to say about that…