Soooo…
This morning, 9:00am, driving to rehearsal.
Bang. Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump….
Flat tire, on the back roads, nowhere to go.
Okay, no prob. I’m 36 years old, and while no expert, I can certainly change a tire. I helped and watched my Dad do enough of these, and have done them myself often.
Check clock: Okay, should have time to do this and still get to rehearsal, just won’t be able to stop at Starbucks.
Open trunk.
Hmmm…haven’t cleaned in here in a while.
Move bags of Water Softener Salt to backseat, so I can get to spare tire. Why aren’t these in the house already? I bought them a month ago. Also…
Move Electric Sidewalk Edger…Why, in God’s name, is there an electric sidewalk edger in my trunk? What the hell? It’s been there so long, I can’t even remember why it’s there.
Move 4 jugs of orange juice and 2 jugs of cranberry juice to the backseat. Those were just put in there a couple of weeks ago, when they weren’t used at my parent’s Anniversary Party. Still not sure why they’re not in the house yet.
Move old kite that’s in the trunk just in case the kids and I ever decide to just stop and fly it on a windy day. This has never, ever happened. Ever.
Shove jumper cables, spray can of lock de-icer, jug of Anti-freeze to back of trunk so I can get to spare.
Lift floor of trunk, to get to “secret compartment” holding spare tire.
Get out spare.
Get out tire iron.
No jack.
Hmmm….
Okay, search secret compartment several times, asking aloud “Um….where the fuck is my jack?”
Close secret compartment. Begin scouring rest of trunk, uncovering the following questionable items: 2 hammers. 1 putty knife. Coffee can with candles in it. Production book from a show I directed 2 years ago. Star Trek(tm) novel from a year ago.
No jack.
Call my wife at home. “Hey, um…any idea why the jack isn’t in the car? No? Okay, well, I’m gonna call the theatre and see if somebody can come out. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow, my car and I are at the corner of Dexter and W. Delhi.”
Scour trunk one more time; a couple of bungee cords. Aluminum softball bat. Big Green Army blanket, for just these types of emergencies.
No jack.
Use several foul words, but remain amazingly calm.
Call the theatre. “Hey, can someone drive here with a jack…etc, etc…”
Open one of the jugs of orange juice and start drinking it.
Stare at cars driving by that don’t stop to see if I need help, even though I’m sitting on the road with a jug of orange juice, a flat tire, and a trunk full of shit spread out on the side of the road.
Check clock. Yep, will now be late for rehearsal. Excellent.
Loosen lug nuts, so when Charlyn arrives with the jack, we can make the spare-tire-swap quickly.
Repack trunk with aforementioned shit, so Charlyn doesn’t laugh at the fact that I use my trunk like most people use their attics.
Charlyn arrives: Our wonderful Assistant Stage Manager shows up perkier than I was, with a jack.
Jack up car.
Tire will not come off.
Lug nuts are off, I’ve done it all properly. This is not brain surgery.
Pull harder.
Tire will not come off.
Silently bemoan sinking of Directorial reputation as young, impressionable Assistant Stage Manager watches me lose wrestling match with tire.
Kick tire to loosen it. Pull tire. Push tire.
Think “What would Dad do?”
Kick it more.
Tire will not come off.
Check clock. 4 actors, 1 understudy, and 2 stage managers are now either annoyed at their time being wasted, or are napping in the rehearsal space.
Throw spare and tools in trunk, pack up everything. Leave car on side of road with note on it. “Flat tire. Will be back in late afternoon to repair”.
Drive to rehearsal with Char.
While driving, ask myself “Why did you leave a note? Does the exploded tire not explain it?” Decide it was for the police, just in case.
Apologize to actors. Rehearse a play for the day. Do a stumble-thru of the whole show for the designers for the first time, so they can see the shape of it.
Have long meeting with designers after stumble-thru.
Borrow big rubber mallet from theatre, and jack from Char.
6:30pm. Get ride back to car, wave goodbye and ‘thanks’ to Gordon as he drives away after dropping me off.
Jack up car.
Pull tire.
Tire will not come off, still. Did I think, somehow, that sitting there all day would have convinced it to change it’s mind?
Kick tire.
Beat tire with rubber mallet.
Tire is stuck.
Beat tire vigorously with rubber mallet.
Beat tire with aluminum softball bat from trunk.
Take a moment, and enjoy the fact that anyone watching me now is laughing uproariously as I beat the tire with the bat.
Call Dad. “Um…this tire won’t come off.”
Recommendations from Dad: 1) Kick it harder. 2) Spray the connecting points with a “WD-40” type of compound. 3) Put on lugnuts only 1/2 way and drive car back and forth to loosen tire.
So, I kick the tire. Nothing.
Search car. No WD-40.
Spray connecting points with Lock De-Icer from trunk.
Kick.
Spray again.
Kick.
Tire will not come off.
Ask myself “Would orange juice loosen it?”.
Decide I’m an idiot, and abandon the o.j. idea.
Put on lugnuts 1/2 way.
Take car off jack.
Drive car in tight circles on dirt road for 2 minutes, muttering to myself about my current state of mind.
Jack car up again.
Remove lugnuts. Pull tire. Tire will not come off.
Spend a minute looking around at the trees and dirt road, contemplating spending the rest of my life living there.
Spray tire with Lock De-icer again.
Lay on back, feet against tire.
Kicking with all the might my 5’3″ frame can muster, pummel the tire repeatedly with both feet simultaneously, alternating between top of tire and bottom of tire.
20 seconds of continual kicking.
Decide that if I live here, where I’m laying now will be the Sitting Room. Over there, on the grassy part, will be the Master Bedroom.
Kick again. Did it move?!
Kick. It moved!!
Shout “Who’s your DADDY!?!?!!??” loud enough to scare off the squirrel digging in the Master Bedroom.
Leap up, complete spare-tire-swap 9 and 1/2 hours later than planned.
Call wife to say “Drive out here and meet me somewhere for dinner and drinks. Lots of drinks.”
Pack up the attic and the leftovers, wave goodbye to the squirrel.
Drive slowly to Dexter Pub, thinking “Well, I’m certainly posting about THIS on LiveJournal.”
Tony Caselli 
HAHAHAHAH!!!!!
Oh I’m sorry you had to deal with that, but what a funny post!!!
Tony, you rule.
I think my favorite part is the “Would orange juice loosen it?”
I enjoyed the plans for the new sitting room.
I think we should all have a sitting room. Sometimes, it’s nice to just sit.
Desperation was setting in. I only wish I’d had some vodka to go with the OJ.
that intersection used to be on my commute to work. i have to say, i’m sorry you didn’t get a flat tire sooner. so funny. so funny.
If you weren’t gallivanting around the West Coast all the time you could’ve saved me! Gallivanter!
You know, I could make you a great set of drapes for that sitting room. Now the master bedroom, I thought we could go with a natural look.
Your day kind of went like mine yesterday. If we can’t share our goofball-ness with others, other’s won’t laugh and choke on spittle at our expense! 😉
Sorry about the spittle, and the choking. I hate that, that choking on spittle thing. I mean, it’s SUPPOSED to be there, how the hell do we manage to choke on it? It’s like one of those tests God gives us; “Here, have this in your mouth all the time. Don’t die on it, but don’t run out, or you’ll be uncomfortably parched. In my name, amen.”
ROTFL
Exactly! Kind of like breathing, we do it all the time, but sometimes our bodies forget? And then that whole gasp thing? Do our spittle batteries run out sometimes? Or is there a short of some kind and we choke on it? Don’t even get me started on blinking 😉
Regardless, if I would have had my camera, I would have stopped to help you, only after taking “he doesn’t know I’m watching him” pictures before hand.
Sorry it was such a hassle, but OOH the enjoyment and entertainment you brought to all of us, like a holiday present early!
MORE of your “he doesn’t know I’m watching him” pictures? Will you please stay out of our bushes, it’s scaring the kids and killing the bushes!!
laughed OUTLOUD at that visual! Oh how funny. People in pain are just damn funny. Why is that??! Ummm…can I just say….AAA is like $35 a year and they will come and change it for you. For free. And bring you gas if you run out. And get your keys out of your locked car. As many times as you need them to-even more than once in a week. Can you tell I have bad luck with cars/tires/reading gas guages??
Next time, I’ll just call YOU. You can come hang out with me, we’ll call AAA and they’ll come to help. That way, you can bring Starbucks coffees and while we wait, we can catch up and drink coffee!
sounds good! That is actually a good idea! Maybe I will start a business called “Coffee, chat and call” and I will drive around bringing coffee to poor people stranded on the side of the road. I will call AAA for them and chat while we wait! I think AAA might catch on when I have 100 service calls a week!
DOOD, YOU drove the Grand Marquis around the horseshoe drive at mom and dads house on Prescott, with the lug nuts loose, also the LTD, and I know something else… Should have called me. Just did it last year with the Cougar. Oh, and driving in circles doesnt do it, you have to just loosen the nuts about 3 or 4 turns, and WHIP that wheel back and forth.
Oh by the way, if you have your tires rotated every 10-15000 miles, they dont rust onto the car. NOW, I am going to make a suggestion here, I know I am going out on a limb, but, take the car to Discount Tire, and have the tires rotated, so if this should happen again, in the colder time of the year… I hope you can see where this is going. Not only will you have curtians in your master bedroom, but you will be designing additions onto the house.
Oh. My. God. Are you referencing automotive events that happened like 19 years ago? Are you serious? Do you know I can barely remember where I PARK my car EVERY FREAKING DAY?! The chances of me remembering those events is as good as the chance I’ll…come up with…something funny to say here…nope, got nothin’.
Maybe as good as the chance of you actually getting those tires rotated?
See, that works! Where were you last night when I was trying to finish that sentence?
Another reminder of days gone by
I have a distinct memory of a similar situation. A group of us in Chris Foster’s mini van coming back from Cedar Point. Flat tire on the side of the freeway in the middle of no ware OH, in the middle of the night. Flat came off fine, problem was we couldn’t figure out how to get the spare off the bottom of the van. After much pulling, pushing, twisting, turning, I think you were the one who almost killed himself pulling down on it until the wire rope that was holding the tire broke and it finally came off, Onto your chest. About that time the tow truck we had called finally showed up, changed the tire and we were on our way.
SDL
Spencer!
1st off – how in the HELL do you people remember these things?
2nd – However, even though I can’t remember that incident, I’m glad to hear that I did manage to get the tire off! 🙂
I do remember a non-tire incident, when we were driving my old Pinto, and the stick shift came right out of the floor. You had the BEST look on your face when I handed you the stick shift and said “Um…hold this…” Maneuvering home in 2nd gear sucked, I remember that, too! *laugh*
Sometimes it’s nice being a girl.
“Hey, your car’s got a flat!! — Grant
“Oh, poopie.” — Erica
*Erica rings Dave up on cell saying she might not be home as early as planned because she has a flat*
“Are you at the theatre? I’ll just come over and change it.” — Dave
“No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll do it on my dinner break.” — Erica
*Before Erica finishes sentance, Dave drives away in his car*
It was more along the lines of a word that stared in “F” and ended in “uck”.
“Oh Poopie” is something we’ve been saying in rehearsals because at 3am it’s really funny.
Oh my…
I agree with Erica…sometimes it is nice to be a girl.
I really wish I would have been driving by to help, well, grab a camera, snap a few pics of you kicking that damn tire, and planning your new hom, and then help…lol.
FYI i like the kite idae, i wish my dad would have taken me randomly kite flying…though once we did stop on the side of the road, walk into a field and set up a 4 foot 90 pound telescope to look at the stars…that was cool.
ROTF
OK, I have never laughed so hard. I’ve GOT to stop reading your journal when I’m still at work or I’m gonna get fired. I think I might pee.
My absolute favorite is Dad’s #1 recommendation, “Kick it harder”. LOL. This is so reminiscent of watching you and Dom desperately try to fix your 7th generation hand me down cars when you were in high school.
Re: ROTF
Yes, it’s very reminiscent of the good ol’ days. I thought that, as I was laying in the middle of the dirt road, on my old army blanket, watching the sun go down around me as my car lay there, unmoving…uncaring.
And although I don’t want you to get fired, I think you should continue reading and posting. Tell the people you work with to read it, too – then they won’t get mad!