Karma, when am I going to learn. As I was walking out of house last week, I noticed a flat tire on the truck. There is no such thing as -just a flat- on the this truck, I cringed. The tires on the big truck are costly. Visions of a month's worth of ramen noodle dinners floated through my head.
Don is out of town, so what should I do? Memories of my last tire escapade came back. One morning years ago, I thought my front tire on the mommy wagon looked a little low. I pulled into a gas station and fed the air pump machine. How hard could it be? I figured you filled them until they were round and didn't have a crease on the ground. I got to work and offered to take a large delivery to a company in the back of the wagon.
When I pulled out highway, I thought I had been bombed. Two tires exploded and left me sitting on the road. Someone from work came and offed the important delivery and I was towed to a gas station for two new tires. The other tires luckily didn't detonate before the workers released air.
Nope, I won't be fixing this big boy. I bought a can of fix-a-flat and emptied it into the tire. It didn't inflate enough to get it to a tire shop. I flagged down a community maintenance worker on a golf cart. He sent over another guy with an air tank to pump it enough to get to shop.
I pulled into Gerald's Tire shop and walked up to counter. They greeted me much like the cheesy commercials. I am thinking big bucks and having to cut back on chocolate consumption, so I am not so cheerful right now. Actually, downright cynical, I think to myself yeah you get paid to talk like that, no one is that cheerful at work.
The counter clerk tells me that it will take about an hour or a little more. Well, it's not like I can go anywhere. I have a flat tire. So, I plop into a chair. I was determined not to sit on the bench outside and become the subject of pity of the passerby's.
I spied a magazine rack and went and scarfed up my faves. Charleston Magazine, Garden and Gun and Towne and Country. That should do me.
Listening to the banter between the counter clerks and other workers that walked back and forth through the shop, I realized they really don't hate their jobs and they were actually having fun. They interacted a lot with the customers waiting.
I leafed through the magazine and felt my shoulders falling down a bit and just kind of settled in. I slid my feet out of my shoes and rested them on top, took a few swigs of water and started reading. I picked up the Charleston Magazine, surprised to find one that I didn't remember the cover. I was half way through when I saw Chef Brett McGee on a full page spread for the Oak Restaurant. Well, when did he go back to the Oak? Then an article on favorite ice cream flavors of Charleston's chefs. Mike Lata, you sure are looking good, I pulled the magazine up to my face to inspect closer. Dang, I think he's had work done.
Then it dawned on me. I flipped the magazine back to the cover. Spring 2009! I laughed out loud. About 15 minutes into the wait, a lady walked in with an overnight bag. They told her that the work will take quite a little while, she smiled undaunted and replied "That's fine." She sat on the outside bench and started pulling out yarn and needles, a bottle of water and commenced to work on her craft.
I looked around the shop. No one seemed harried, checked their watches or paced impatiently. I had memories of the men that used to sit on benches outside the gas stations, burning barrels and shade trees. They may be on to something.
After three magazines, one bottle of water and a half hour of Food Network and 5 M&M's out of the vending machine for a quarter.... they called my name.
"Ma'am we patched your tire, there's no charge." I thanked him sincerely grateful and left feeling better than I did after morning coffee, who knew.
By the way, ladies. I did figure out why all of the ladies sat outside. 2 hours in a tire shop does not a sweet cologne make.
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