Quote of the week…“Young folks of today have the disadvantage of having too many advantages.”

When is the last time you changed a tire? It has been a long time since I have, and I hope it is a long time before I have to again.

I was on my way to Coalgate several years ago when I saw a lady parked just off the highway near Non. I got out to see if I could help. She had a flat tire and expressed her appreciation. I opened her trunk to get the jack out and couldn’t find it. She helped me locate it and when I got it out it looked like a can opener. I took a long time to figure out how it went together.

I tried for quite awhile but could never get it to work. She looked at me and said “I know you have got other things to do so why don’t you just go and maybe someone will stop that knows what to do.

I left and she was right. When I was returning, I saw the car was gone and thankful that someone that “knew what they were doing” had stopped.

Not long after that I saw a lady in the Nursing Home parking lot trying to change a flat. I went over to help and it was worse than the other time I tried to help. It was so hot that day and she also had one of those mini jacks. After about ten minutes she said to me “Honey, you look like you are about to have a heat stroke. Please let me do that.” She didn’t have to ask twice. However, I did stay to cheer her on.

Something good did come out of these two “tire” stories. I west out and bought me a full-size jack. Now when T have a flat whoever stops to help me will have a much easier time changing it.

With those stories still in my mind I really appreciated and enjoyed the following story.

I CHANGED A FLAT TIRE

There are a few key items every dad has to check off his dad list and perhaps the most important one is hanging a flat tire on the side of the highway with your family in the car. And, as of a few weeks ago, I have checked it off.

I don’t want to oversell it. Yes, it was after dark and we were on the side of a busy highway in Orlando, but it wasn’t raining or anything. Though, the ground was quite damp!

However, I was pretty new at all this. The closest I had come to a tire change was when I was a freshman in high school. My mom was driving our van home from a high school tennis match with me and several of my teammates in it. We were on I-95 when one of the tires blew out. We swerved around violently for a moment before pulling to a stop. My doubles partner, a senior who was mechanically inclined and, coincidently, went on to be a fighter jet pilot, was able to change the tire and get us on our way. The rest of us were completely useless. My mom idolized that guy from that day forward.

Perhaps I knew that my moment would come one day. Or perhaps not. Either way, it did. And boy did I answer the call. I put the call on hold first, though. For about an hour, I think. Or however long it took me to read the flat tire section of the car manual a few times and fiddle around with the compartment where the jack is stored. And then there was the getting the spare tire loose from under the car part.

The one thing no one tells you about changing a tire is that it is physically very difficult. Specifically, getting the spare tire off is darn near impossible unless you fully commit to the procedure. For the first hour, I lacked commitment. We were going back and forth about calling roadside assistance. So, after I lowered the spare from inside the trunk, I only gave a half-hearted effort when I tried to pry it free from underneath. That wasn’t cutting it.

After waiting a bit more and getting in and out of the car a lot, I finally decided it was my time. Roadside assistance was taking too long. I laid out on my back and shimmied underneath the car. I was face to face with the spare. My back was soaked, but that was okay because I’m rugged.

I grabbed the spare with both hands and pushed it up like I was bench pressing it. This seemed like as good a thing to do as anything. The idea was to get some slack in the metal rope thing that was holding the tire up, so I could slide the flat metal piece on the end, which I believe the manual rather rudely called a winch, through the hole in the center of the tire. I randomly pushed up on the tire for five -to-ten minutes, holding one side up with my elbow while trying to maneuver the winch through with my free hand. After ten minutes, I understood why they called it that.

Finally, after much grunting, we had a break-through. The winch went through the hole somehow and the tire didn't totally fall on my face. Just kind of grazed it. I figured if there was a scrape, it would only add to my ruggedness.

From there, it was pretty much smooth sailing. Well, once I figured out what a jack was, that is. And which direction to orient it. I asked my wife if I should set it up parallel to the car. I tried to explain what I meant with detailed hand motions. It was clear she didn’t completely understand my reasoning and knew whatever my reasoning was it was wrong, so she responded with a simple “OK.” Based on that, I set it up the opposite way and that turned out to be right. Anyway, I eventually cranked that baby up with some more grunting for good measure, popped the fl at off, attached the spare, grunted a little more. Lowered the jack, tossed it in the trunk, and off we went.

As I slid back into the driver’s seat, I felt pretty thoroughly drenched with water and accomplishment. It’s nice to be good for something, even when it’s a thing you’re objectively terrible at.

And, really, isn’t that what parenting is all about? Being good for something even when, for most of us, working with children isn’t our greatest or most natural skill. You just have to do the best you can, grunt a lot when you hit rough patches along the road, and maybe, if you’re lucky, check a few items off the accomplishment list along the way.

by Andrew Knott

Jacks are not the only thing that are not made like they used to be. Have you noticed the poor quality of the new mirrors . . .

Nothing’s as good as it used to be, including mirrors. I’ve noticed that everything is farther away. It is twice as far to the corner, and a hill has been added. (The buses leave earlier, too.)

It seems to me that stairs are being made steeper than in the old days, and have you noticed the smaller print used in newspapers? And there’s no sense in asking anyone to read aloud anymore. Everybody speaks in such low voices that I can hardly hear them.

The material in dresses is so skimpy these days, especially around the hips and waist and the sizes don’t run the way they used to: The 12s and 13s are so much smaller. It’s also almost impossible to reach one’s shoelaces.

Even people are changing. They are so much younger than they used to be when I was their age. On the other hand, people my own age are so much older than I am. I ran into a classmate the other day, and she has aged so much that she didn’t recognize me.

I got thinking about the poor dear while I was combing my hair this morning, and in doing sol glanced at my own reflection. Really now, they don’t even make good mirrors like they used to!

Author unknown