The tire fiasco - April 22

With the flub, flub, flub of a problematic unknown emanating from the rear of Bessie, I looked for a place to pull over only to find that the next exit was 10 miles away and the shoulder was non-existent. Inching her along the highway, cursing at anyone and anything, I finally exited up a ramp to semi-level shoulder on the opposite entrance ramp and set about to find out what was wrong.

Walking back to the rear tire I saw nothing that would cause the noise until I ran my hand along its entirety. Smooth, treaded tire gave way to a foot and a half long by two inch wide tear all the way down to the steel belt.

By now it was somewhat funny, I mean, EVERY day? Sometimes ALL day? What had I done in this life or a previous one to deserve this? Angry at God, angry at life, angry at this trip, I set about doing the only thing I could, changing out the tire.

When buying the van one of the selling points was the overabundance of tools and equipment that came with her. Leaving the house I knew that I had everything I needed but, upon taking it all out, I found that one really important piece was missing, the tool necessary to remove the hub caps...

I tried everything, kicked at it and swore at it, until I finally grabbed my hatchet, some damage to inflict the only thing on my mind. Thankfully, right before I took the first swing, I realized that I could use the edge of the blade as a pivot point and the heel for leverage. Giving it a good whack, the hub came flying off.

Turns out the lug nuts were rusted on (another little tidbit I have learned, always check your lugs before leaving, use WD40 if they are rusted) and it took every ounce of my leg and arm strength to loosen them. Again cursing up a storm (I think I must have been a sailor in previous life), I started to jack her up only to find that the jack that came with her was 2" too short. I tried every possible, jackable point but nope, each one was too short. To make matters worse, three truckers rolled right on by and not even one stopped to ask if they could help or offer up their hydraulic jack.

By now it had truly become funny and I could not help but look up and say "Ok. Forget it. I won't ask for any more favors."

Out of divine intervention or blind luck I realized that my mom had given me a book before I left, "1000 things to see and do in the US and Canada before you die", that happened to be 2 and a half inches thick. Using the book for a purpose other than its intent I was able to free the tire just enough to remove it and replace it with my old, worn spare.

It felt good to have accomplished it all and the beautiful blazen red and orange sunset made for a fitting end to the evening, too bad it would all start over again tomorrow.