Thursday, January 13, 2011

one of the 1,000 reasons I love living in this town:

today I drove to the post office, which is 30 feet in front of my house. (it was so terribly cold)
On the journey, my car was making a strange rythmic thumping sound, which I correctly assumed to be a flat tire. we're talking FLAT.

I called my mom, who suggested calling a local tire shop, but to wait, because she'd come look at it first, and she would be there in 10 minutes.

To pass some time, I walked into the bank (right next to the post office) to make a deposit. While in there, my grandma called. She said, "Abbie! Are you in the bank?" She explained that she had just saw me walk in while driving by. She asked how I was, and I said, "Other than my flat tire, I'm fine."

She told me not to call the tire shop, because my uncles were nearby and could take care of it.

Less than five minutes later, two uncles, dressed in carharts and driving an F250 pickup, arrived on the scene. In the bed of the large truck was an air compresser, which they haul around in case they need to help someone out with a tire. Convenient.

In another five minutes, my tire had enough air in it to drive out to their shop, where they used some large tire-fixer to take care of my "leaky bead." This bead was the cause of all the problems.

What would have been a costly endeavor, requiring me to be car-less for several hours, took less than 30 minutes, and was free.

Uncles save the day.