Another One Bites the Dust

I did not take my flat to be fixed last night. All I wanted to do was see my chiropractor, go home and lie in my big yellow chair watching DVDs. Every muscle from my thighs to my shoulders hurt. (If I changed a tire a day, I would have gluts like J Lo in no time.)

My plan was to go to work today, go to the post office, go to Big-O and get my tire fixed. I should have rubbed some dirt on the pain and went yesterday because this morning when I got up, the other back tire was low. “Grr.” I thought, and drove to the nearest gas station to get air. I removed the air-tube cap and the tire said “Fffffft…..” It deflated like a child learning that there is no Santa. No amount of coaxing would induce it to refill.

A crowd of men in robes and sandals came by and asked “Who sinned? This woman or her parents that her car is rendered lame?” A voice from heaven answered “No one has sinned. These things have come to pass that God might be glorified.” Laying hold on this eternal truth, I girded up my loins (a.k.a. buttoned my vintage DKNY brocade jacket that I got for $10 at a thrift shop) and started making phone calls. The solution came in the form of my pastor’s wife on her way into town with cousins and kids. See? We are never left comfortless! I left my car at the gas station and walked the rest of the way to work, reveling in the sunshine that was beaming its way through the crisp autumn air.

After about an hour, I met my rescuers at the gas station where we pulled off the tire and drove off to Big-O. I sat by Jessica who had a stuffed rabbit in her hoody and obligingly helped me drink my Arnold Palmer. The tires were fixed~~ nail in one, leaky bead seal on the other. Back to the gas station we flew, stopping first to break into my apartment because I had locked all my keys in the car. Fortunately I left a window unlocked and could climb in through the ficus tree and over the yellow chair. I may be slightly scatter-brained, I may invite the drama, but you can’t deny that I’m entertaining.

I’m pursuaded that all things work together for good, even a thing like two mornings of flats. If the only good was that the gas station attendant got to see me laughing my way through trouble instead of cursing, well, I accept that. I stop there all the time and she will remember me. $12 is not too high a price for a soul, I think.

As I left the gas station parking lot, Selah began warbling out “God Blessed the Broken Road.” I’m still working on the relevance of that…..