With a jack and a spare you’re there

I learned something last night: There is no way in the world that I could possibly change the tire on my Beetle. I believe this to be true because the tire is so heavy that I couldn’t even get it out of the back.

I am greatly discouraged by this. My dad had a rule that I couldn’t get my license until I could drive a stick shift, change the oil in my car (you know, for all those emergency oil changes by the side of the road), and change my tire. So I know how to change a tire. I haven’t done it in years, but I do know how. My dad even taught me how to get the bolts off if they were too tight by jumping on the tire iron. Boy, that makes a woman feel strong and independent.

Last night on the way home from work (I worked until 9, so this was after dark) some chain of events caused me to be slightly off the road for a few seconds, and when I pulled the car back on the road it gashed the tire. So I had to pull off on a side road ASAP. Being only three or four minutes from home, I called Mike instead of AAA. While he was coming to save me, I tried to get the tools out of the back. I got the little set of tools out just fine, but I couldn’t pull the tire out. It was incredibly heavy. (The tires on my Chevrolet Sprint and my Honda Civic were not that heavy.) Being as short as I am, I couldn’t get enough leverage to actually pull it out of the trunk. Do you know how pathetic that made me feel? Not as pathetic as when I got really desperate and tried to yank it out, causing a disturbing shooting pain in my knee. While I was doing all of this, men in pickup trucks kept driving by and asking me if I needed help. I would say, “No, thanks! My husband is on the way!” The first group of guys seemed like people I would probably have let help me if I had actually needed help, because they seemed concerned and not leering. The second group of guys, however . . . when I said, “No, my husband is on his way,” they responded, “Okay! We’re not married!”

Oh. Okay, then. hehe.

Since I am writing this, I suppose it’s obvious that I didn’t die at the hands of some unmarried strangers or even resist their attacks by beating them with the tire iron. Mike came and changed the tire for me (he had no trouble getting it out of the back, but he had a lot of trouble getting it on and getting the bolts in) while I held the flashlight. We even made it home in time for The Amazing Race. It seems like a “no harm, no foul” story except for one thing. I have been stressed about money as it is, and we really really can’t afford to have to buy a new tire. So I’m hoping that last night’s escapade doesn’t cost us too much money.

When I was visiting my mom over the weekend, I was sharing some of my money fears with her and she said that this is a chance for me to really step out in faith and trust the Lord’s provision. So, today while I wait for Mike to call and tell me how much it’s going to cost, that’s what I’m trying to do.

1 Trackbacks

You can leave a trackback using this URL: https://throughaglass.net/archives/2004/08/04/with-a-jack-and-a-spare-youre-there/trackback/

  1. […] ood a lot, in case you can’t tell.) Our finances are the reason I am so upset about the flat tire and the reason I haven’t been sleepin […]

13 Comments