Neither my husband’s car nor mine is equipped
with spare tires, something I’m told is now normal.
When we got a flat recently, we ended up stranded for the night in Corsicana, TX*, till the tire shop opened in the morning.
I have zero idea how to change a tire and think
the world is safer if I don't try.
My husband did once change the tire of a rental
car on the Cross-Bronx Expressway, an
awful stretch of pavement. Yes, everyone who hears this story wonders why
he just didn’t call the rental company. He said when he turned the car in, he
told the guy at the rental counter he had changed the tire and the guy just
shrugged. Sure hope that tire was on right.
My point is we all seem to be moving away from
doing things with our own hands.
It’s not just flat tires. Lots of things aren’t
fixable; either they are disposable or you need specialized tools, including,
maybe, a diagnostic computer, to even open them.
Weirdly, there are games you can get for your
phone where you play at cleaning a house or planting a garden by tapping your
screen. It’s not the same.
Patience is required to do things with your own hands, an acceptance that things aren't perfect and won’t come together perfectly, a tolerance for frustration.
And when you are able to fix something, you feel accomplished.
*One thing to recommend in the tiny town of Corsicana:
Collins Street Bakery, world-famous for its fruitcakes. The tow truck driver and tire-shop
guys, all gruff and heavily tattooed, recommend the cherry refrigerator cookies
– hot-pink little confections – and they’re right.
