I am a firm believer in visiting local car repair shops while on vacation. I have to be. Every time I take a vacation, my car breaks down. Tires explode. Radiator hoses burst. Batteries die. I’ve seen more car repair shops outside the state of Nebraska than I have hotels. So, I recently took a trip to Paradise. You would have thought my car would give me a break since I was taking it there. No go. But I learned a very important lesson about car repair. It went like this:
There I was, stranded on the side of the road with a flat-as-a-pancake rear tire, a spare and a jack in the back, and very limited knowledge how to work either. And I was alone. Right outside a little place called Newcastle, Wyoming. With only 491 miles to go before I reached home.
Turns out Newcastlers like to farm. I know this because they drive pick-ups. Just like in Nebraska. Pick-ups quick capable of holding four young men. Who are prone to stop to help a stranded motorist. And who also just happen to be able to change a tire in under ten minutes. Which is a lot more than I can say for myself.
I was only a couple miles outside Newcastle, just on the other side of a bridge. But I might have been 50 miles away on the Interstate, speeding towards South Dakota. I think flat tires are worse at 75 mph. And the Interstate doesn’t have as many helpful drivers. Or nearby tire repair shops. But I was only close to Newcastle because I’d had to turn around. Because I’d missed my exit. Because I’d been distracted. Because I’d called my mom.
As it worked out, I and my spare tire made it back to the little farming community of Newcastle and got a brand new tire put on in under an hour. All I had to do was push the button to pop the trunk. I didn’t even have time to call for help. I felt like I had stepped into the NASCAR racing world or something. Who knows? Maybe my car was tired of all the times I’d stopped at restaurants and had decided to stop for a quick manicure before continuing the journey. So, the moral of the story? (It’s very important, especially for all your road-trippers.) If you’re going to have a flat tire, always call your mother first.
