The week had not gone as well as we would have hoped. 66% of the kids were down with severe cold & flu symptoms, and partial strep. It had been 4 days of missed school and I wondered if this would have an overall impact on their scholarship applications missing a week of elementary school. You never nowadays.
When I was standing in the shower that morning, I do not anticipate how manic my morning would become.
I left 66% of my kids in the care of my lovely wife, and 33% by the road waiting for the school bus. Once she had jumped on the bus, I shot off in my “new” Dodge Charger.
I was early for once. Only a few minutes, but it still gives a good start to any day.
On my route to work, there’s a section where a few highways cross, and a diabolic like lane change happens. There’s nothing around on this isolated piece of road. For about a mile it is just barren wasteland – no-mans land – an area you would see as a battle ground in Mad Max as they fight for water.
On that particular strip of road, I suddenly started to feel sluggish steering capability and low air pressure on left front tire. Deep inside, I knew I should’ve changed my tires some weeks ago. It’s just one of those things you should’ve done, and didn’t do, and now shit comes back to haunt you!
Luckily I had all the necessary tools in the boot of the car – or trunk as the Yanks are calling it. Either way, I was prepared for a DYI roadside assist. Little did I know that was missing a key ingredient – wd40. You cannot leave your home without it!
- A jack
- A lug wrench
- A spare tire
The only obstacle that you are never prepared for is how tight the wheel bolts. Fear not. I attacked those suckers with an attitude and a ferocity that would scare any WWE wrestlers. I was gonna come out victorious.
As I attached the lug wrench to the first bolt, it was clear this was going to take a little more effort than earlier anticipated. All five bolts were as welted to the wheel, and didn’t give a crap that I was pulling it. If they had a voice, I’m sure I would have heard them laugh and mock me.
I pulled. I stood on the wrench. I kicked the tire. I poured warm coffee. I cursed. I kicked the wrench. I kicked the tire. I kicked the car. I kicked the ground. I scratched the wheel with my nails. I screamed at it. I used a large rock as hammer on the wrench.
I prepared for one final attempt. I focused my anger at the bloody wrench. Grabbed it with both hands, and mentally transformed into the Hulk. All my powers were being directed to my hands.
As I pulled the immovable bolt, I let out my manly war-cry, which sounds like the Dementor from Harry Potter, and flexed all my muscles in my entire body who had been on holiday for the last decade.
Sweat was being forced out from various places on my body and forehead. The war-cry quickly turned into a cry of agony. I felt and heard something pop on my left side, from muscles I hadn’t used for a long time, and it was like being stabbed by Excalibur. Not that I have much stabbing victim experience, and not planning on it either, but this was painful.
Cars (drivers) flying by on the highway must’ve had a wonderful experience, seeing a guy dressed in a nice suit, jumping on a wrench attached to his car, and being totally animated.
I was in pain. Tire was not coming off. I had to call for reinforcement.
... to be continued.