Fiasco!

You’d think I’d be nice and relaxed after my little golf trip.

Think again.

I was on the way home from the airport when Kathy told me about Jake needing a wheel bearing for his vehicle. He’d be without a car on Tuesday.

Cut to Tuesday night. 

He asked to borrow my car so they could go play basketball. I tossed him the keys. Ten minutes later, Kathy said:

“Your car has a flat.”

I pick up nails on construction sites. “No big deal,” I said.

Headed out at 8 p.m. with the air compressor and the idea to get enough air in it to get it home.

Tire wouldn’t take air.

I looked for a nail.

Meanwhile, the boys jumped in the other vehicle and headed for home.

I decided that I was too tired and sore to change the tire. They came and picked me up.

“I’ll get it tomorrow. It’s in a parking lot.”

Instead of going in the morning, I headed out in the Jeep that has 220,000 miles and no radio. 

No one else had a car. I also had a full schedule.

Finished up site visits at 3:30 and headed to the lot with my flimsy jack stand.

Suffice to say:

I didn’t get the donut on! The jack slipped twice, and I gave up.

(Know that I’d successfully changed a tire a month ago).

Yet, I don’t know enough to know what was going wrong.

Triple A met me in the lot an hour later. He had a huge jack- took him a flat minute to put the donut on.

“It’s a good thing you bought the warranty,” Kathy said.

“The warranty doesn’t cover it - sidewall blowout - looks like you hit a pot hole.”

“Whatever,” I said.

“I can’t sell you just one,” Mr. Sunshine said.

“How much?”

“$486.”

Fiasco!!!!

Of course, Jake owned up to hitting the pot hole in the parking lot. 

“He couldn’t sleep last night,” Kathy confessed.

I saw Jake as I returned home with two brand spanking new tires.

“How much was it?” He asked.

“Nothing!” I exclaimed. “Warranty covered it.”

That’s what being a Dad is all about.