Can I get a little help? Thoughts on flat tires

Many years ago, what feels like a lifetime, I found myself trapped in a bumper-to-bumper sea of automobiles on Atlanta’s downtown connector. There was a time in my life when this was a common occurrence. Yes, I was once a commuter, spending hours each week behind the wheel of a car driving to and from work, clogging the roadways and polluting the air with fossil fuel emissions.

But on that particular day, I, and the thousands of other drivers trying to make our way to the I-75 and I-85 split, were facing no ordinary traffic jam. The flow of cars had come to a complete stop – a take the car out of gear and get your foot off the pedal kind of stop. After 30 minutes or more of staring up at the skyline, blue lights lit up in various positions in and around traffic and the vehicles began to inch forward then suddenly part, opening a path toward the shoulder. 

In the middle of the path was a disabled car, with a blown tire, being pushed by a poor soul, a traffic jam Moses parting the sea he helped create, out of the roadway. The wayward motorist was flanked by a crew of Atlanta’s finest, who had stopped traffic. A few officers helped push the car safely from the interstate.

Like a clog removed from a drain, traffic began to flow again. I, of course, was relieved to continue my journey home, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the person whose tire mishap caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people. That very scenario became my worst nightmare. Forget parallel parking, teaching someone how to change a tire on the side of the interstate during rush hour should be on the driving test. 

That nightmare of mine never came true thankfully, and I’ve only participated in traffic jams and never created one. However, I’ve changed more flat tires in the past two years than I ever have. Five if I’m remembering correctly. I am beginning to think someone is throwing nails around my beautiful car, or maybe I’ve been hexed. I cut a nun off in line at the grocery store a while back. She said something in Latin that suspiciously sounded like “curse” … 

While getting another patch job recently at the tire shop, I realized that I should probably teach my kids how to change a tire. And check the oil and water. Maybe how to change the bulbs in headlights. Sure, they’re not at driving age yet, but you’re never too young to learn something new. Especially since the list of knowledge I should bestow before adulthood only seems to get longer and never shorter. 

Knowing how to change a tire is about like having insurance. You hope you never need it but you’re better off having it. My kids may go their whole lives without ever changing a tire, but if they know how to do it, they can at least help their old man. 

With my luck I’ll be doing it again soon.