Pick On Someone Else

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Everyone goes through it.

A week in the barrel.

Sometimes it seems as if God is up there saying, "I'm gonna' see how much this dork can handle."

The flu is not a big deal.

I've grown up a little and I whine about it now only because I want to aggravate people about whining about it.

I got that on Monday.

I was still feeling lousy on Thursday, but the work was already scheduled out. I had planned a busy day.

To Jamestown for a couple of meetings and then a quick stop home to write reports and pick up my bag for a trip to Syracuse.

"Tough trip in this weather," the all-knowing Pops texted me.

He jinxed me.

The bastard jinxed me!

I visited the sites as the mind-numbing cold kicked in.

I got back into my car and answered my ringing cell phone. I was blowing into my hands as I tried to answer. It was someone sitting in an office somewhere, probably too warm from the little portable heater under her desk.

"Wow! You sound awful."

"What do you want?" I asked.

The topic of conversation went way over my head...something about a lawyer...an accident...all about 5 years ago.

"Send me an email," I said. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm freezing!"

The office girl laughed.

I threw the phone down and made my way home.

I heard the tire pop.

Actually, I saw it.

A little poof of air.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

I was going 65 at the time.

I knew what the hell was that about two seconds later.

And this is where the fun begins.

Because I am mechanically-illiterate.

I knew I had as much chance of changing the tire in a snowstorm, on the Thruway, as I did in taking over Jeter's shortstop position next year.

No chance.

I didn't even try.

I pulled to the side of the road and waited.

Not sure what I was waiting for, but I looked to the roof of the car.

"Really? You're gonna' keep kicking the crap out of me this week? Are you bored?"

A county plow truck moved to the side of the road.

The driver got out.

"You have a spare?"

"Perhaps."

"Is it in the back or under the car?"

"No idea."

He was such a nice guy.

A hardworking, not-mechanically-illiterate, good guy.

He looked under the car.

"You have a spare down there."

I'm not sure if he was waiting for me to retrieve it, but that wasn't happening.

"Hang tight," he said.

He disappeared into his truck. I went back to reading the sports page. He came back a moment later.

"I can send someone here to change the tire. It'll cost you about $75 or you can change it yourself. You'll get 50 miles out of that donut."

"Not if I put it on I won't," I said.

He laughed.

A little while later another not-mechanically-illiterate guy showed up.

I drove home on the donut.

I bought a new tire.

On to Syracuse!

(Thanks for the jinx, Pops).

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