Shattered Nation Longs to Care About Stupid Bullshit Again

I was driving home tonight, and I noticed my Jeep swaying back and forth, like I'd taken one of those krazy cartoon driving classes, but the wheel was straight. So I'm thinking 'Dag, my steering must be in a bad way, gotta get that looked at.' I've never had a tire blow out on the interstate...

So my tire blew out on the interstate. It was getting dark, and I was on my way to a vocal rehearsal that I was leading [ I was late last week]. I was running ahead of time, everything looked great. Driving from Indy, takes about 45 minutes to get home.

So I hop out, and instantly my extremities were frozen from the blasts of wind that passed me at 70-75 mph. I still had feeling in my fingertips. Toes? Check. Luckily, I had a wool coat on, put on an extra sweatshirt I had, a hat [with a reflective strip so good for changing tires on the interstate in the dark, bad for activities where black hats are required for stealth]. Cellphone? Ah, no. No right pocket. No left pocket. Open door, grope in darkness, not on dash. Backpack? No. Jeans NO! Wait, of course I grabbed it a...*sigh* this is me. I lose my wallet daily.

So okay, no big. Started taking the lugnuts off. 2 came loose np, Where is that good tireiron? There it is. 1 more, 1 more [fingertips? man it's cold blow on hands] last 'nut came with a fight. Remember the star pattern. All set. Put 'nuts in cabin. No flashlight. Gotta keep track of them.

I grabbed the horribly inadequate jack that comes standard with every vehicle, and started lifting my 2-ton Wrangler. It seemed like I could not jack it up high enough. I would try and try, and it was never good enough. Man, I wish somebody would stop. I wish I would have kept THE GOOD JACK in the Jeep [it's in there now]. So after about 5-6 tries, laying on the ground, trying to manuever the secret bolt pattern onto some psych test to claim the mystery prize, I laid the tire down, only to step on it later [blow on hands, face] and my foot went into it. So the spare was flat. Time to walk to the last exit [22, I could see it, couldn't have been more than a mile from it]. In my walking, I felt this weird sensation in my left jeans pocket. MY PHONE. Rockin'. Gave Carter a call [vocal group, the big daddy] and he came over and helped me out.

Dude was on it. He did to me what I do and will most certainly do to you who are reading this if you ever call me asking for vehicle help. He brought me stuff, like Doritos and water. That pretty much does it for me in that situation. All I need really, save the properly inflated 5th tire.

So we packed the flat spare, took er to Meijer, plugged $.50 into the AIR machine, bought obnoxious flashlites, throwaway gloves, batteries. Good it on no problems, followed me home.

As we were waiting in line, I'm looking at the same tabloids I spied a few days ago whilst in line buying my foods for the week. I'm reminded of 9/11, and shortly after. TheOnion ran a story with a great photo collage with Brittney Spears and her albino python, Tom Cruise and Penelope Cruz, that 13 yr old little league pitcher who was like 22 with the headline "A Shattered Nation Longs To Care About Stupid Bullshit Again" which is EXACTLY how I felt. Although I didn't pine for the stupid bullshit I had left behind.

As I type this now with slightly swollen and sore fingers, yeah, none of THAT [recall photo collage] matters. And, on a personal level, the annoying crap at work is neither. I'm just happy to be sipping hot tea, black sweatshirt, black hat, listening to Massive Attack and finishing this note.

So do me a favor and check your vehicles for stuff like jumper cables/tow straps/flashlights/blankets/jacks/tireirons/etc. If you need anything, let me know. I'm serious.


cheers and warmth
kjosh.