So our holiday plans go as follow: we drive from Winnipeg to Minneapolis. It’s an eight hour drive.
Stay overnight in Minneapolis.
Then fly out Saturday from Minneapolis to Orlando. Cheaper than flying direct from Winnipeg.
I know. Pain in the ass. But it’s Disney on a budget.
This is where we’re at two hours into our travels…
Geez. Quit panicking buddy. You’d think this was the first time my rear tire blew up.
Of course the older kids remember the first time this happened to me, so now they think I’m the cause. I make tires blow up right from under me.
The first thing Wayne says is “Shit. We’re stranded.”
I ask, “Why are we stranded?”
He replies, “Because the thingy that the spare tire is attached to under the van” –no he didn’t say the thingy. I call it a thingy because I can’t remember what it’s actually called – “the thingy is jammed and the spare tire won’t come down.”
Immediately I go into problem-solving mode: “Get me your Blackberry, I need to find the nearest garage.”
He then says to me –keep in mind he’s already asserted that he knows the tire is immovable – “You don’t need to call anyone. I’ll get the tire off.”
But…What?…but he just said…
I say nothing because I don’t want to start the vacation off on the wrong foot, and calling him names would most certainly qualify as such.
As I’m sitting on a suitcase outside next to him as he tries to remove the immovable tire, I’m thinking how much faster I could do this if I was by myself.
People are driving by. Some are cat-calling, some are whistling…maybe to me, maybe to Wayne. I don’t presume.
But when they see a man wielding tools, the passersby are assuming that we’ve got it under control.
An hour and a half later, someone pulls over to see if we need any help. Yes! Yes we do!
The kind passerby has a blow torch in his truck.
At this point, after all this time of sweltering in the sun and boosting Wayne’s morale with the occasional “How ya doing Hun?” I don’t even question whether Blow Torch Guy is a serial killer. I’m like, “Yup, bring that weapon over here, let’s see what we can do.”
In the end, everything works out. We are back on the road. We are alive.
Zoe was mildly panicked at the thought of being stranded in the middle of the North Dakota farm fields. Apparently she’s never heard of tow trucks and replacement tires. During the duration of the roadside drama, she sat in the backseat hidden under a blanket.
The stress of the adventure knocked her out for a couple of hours afterwards (hurray!)