A Flat Tire

Not mine. It has a tread. (carhop.com)

It was a quiet day around the Adams abode.

Sean did what Sean does when Sean is here.

I did my thing. For the first time in months, I was able to sort through junk and mail (not mutually exclusive, of course), and put some music on while I worked. It was a George Harrison type of day.

Then again, George also died on this day 18 years ago. Next month, it will be 39 years since John Lennon was murdered.

But, wait. I'm getting off track.

It was a day in the life.

Sean is a habitual orange juice drinker. No carbonated beverages. Like, ever.

Water? Sure. But orange juice all day.

And, of course, our personal orange grove was dry.

So it was off to Stop and Shop for OJ, kitty litter, plus my beloved lime seltzer, along with other odds and sods.

We were soon back in the car and back to the house. I dropped him off in the driveway so that we could unload the groceries. I backed away to my parking spot across the street.

Then the car showed me an alert: Low tire pressure.

Now, I'm fairly used to that. My front tires have been...er...round for some time. That's about it. They're round. They barely have rubber, and definitely don't have much of a tread. There's a longer reason for this, but take my word for it. During the colder months, I have to put air in the tires every few days, especially on the passenger side.

So the alert didn't trouble me. I parked the car and shut it off. I got out and saw that my parallel parking job left me a little too much on the road, so I got back in adjusted the parking spot.

In that moment, it hit me. I had just put air in the tire yesterday, as I passed through Darien. My instinct told me to check the condition of the tire.

Uh oh. I could tell it was really low. Maybe I could run up the hill and put air in it. Without even telling Sean, I started driving away when I felt the clear rumble that this was a very bad idea.

The tire was flat. I was able to back up and roll into the garage.

I thought for sure I'd have the advantage of my father's trusty old Sears jack but, of course, it was nowhere to be found. So I used what I had in the car and had the spare donut on in roughly a half-hour.

I moved the car back across the street.

My second flat tire of 2019, after the June affair on the side of route 25, was done. I'm ready to work the pits at Indianapolis.

Now, with the oncoming bad weather is the question of how to get a new tire (or two or three or four). Plus more. More questions.

The funny thing is, I'm not mad. I'm not surprised this happened either. Maybe I'll be mad eventually, but there was no meltdown. Honestly, that might still happen. Thus is the day to day.

But, to be honest, I findl myself with a feeling of gratitude.

Let's think this through: it could have happened yesterday. Sure, the tire would have gotten changed but it would have mucked up Thanksgiving a bit.

Tonight? Could have been on the side of a Mahopac road. In fact, we passed one being loaded on a flatbed on a bad Baldwin Place Road curve.

Instead, even without my dad's old trusty jack, I still got the tire changed with minimal grief in the warmth of my own garage.

The point is it could have been much worse, and it wasn't.

So, in my current rational state, I find myself thankful.

It will all get sorted out.

Perspective, I suppose.

What do I always want to hear? It will all work out.

It will.