It wasn’t by choice.
I ran home from work long enough to change clothes, say hi to the dogs, and cash in on the 14 (including rollover) hugs The General owes me, and then I headed out the door again to do a home visit for Pet Project Rescue. This little jaunt barely got a mile down the road before I felt Danger the Vibe starting to limp along.
I stopped at a stoplight, got out to run around the car to see what was going on, but didn’t really see anything. I got another couple of blocks and pulled into the lot of the closest public library. My damn right driver’s side tire was flat.
I pulled out the donut, jacked up the car, and started the process of taking off the tire. It required standing on the lug wrench thing to loosen up those bad boys, but I eventually had everything to go except getting the wheel off. Easier blogged about than done.
Yanking, pulling, wiggling, you name it and I tried it. Eventually, a guy that was waiting for someone inside the library came over to offer his help. He walked up to me, said, “Que¿” and just jumped right into clanking things against the wheel in these very specific spots like he’d done it a million times.
He didn’t so much as say a word until the flat tire was off, the donut was on, and everything was back in my hatch. I said, “thanks” and he reached out to shake my hand. I took a chance on my limited Spanish skills and winced on the inside when I said “Gracias”. I hate being that person.
“De nada”, he said and, I kid you not, he had the biggest smile ever on his face, even after he was crouched down in the snow and ice and single digit temps hammering away on some stranger’s car.
I love my neighborhood and I love that the friendliest, most helpful people we have encountered have made us realize exactly why we were excited about moving to North Minneapolis.
And now I have to get my 2nd new tire in less than a year. Lame.