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May 4, 2008

From High to Low in 3 Seconds... Flat

Well, what would a year be without an interaction with AAA?

I watched my car—my first and only, a 1993 Saturn SW1 I bought off a co-worker—be towed away last week by a very nice, young, slightly round man name Oscar from a place called Chuckie's. I donated the car in haste to Cars for Kids, knowing nothing about the organization, hoping they're legit. I had done a search for 'donate car boulder' on Google and came up with a page where all I had to do was enter my first name, the make and model of the car, and a contact number, and withing 2-to-three days they would call me, set a time, and come tow the car away. And they did. Oscar arrived early, just as I was heading out of my apartment to clean out the trunk—wouldn't want to work ahead too much on these things—so I hurriedly emptied out the interesting contents onto a blanket in the parking lot, Oscar and I pushed the car into a better position, he rigged it up to roll behind the minivan he had already on the bed, and with a friendly wave he was off. And there went KIJ. (The last three characters of the license plate.) Would it be weird to wave to my car as it left? Was anyone watching?

I wanted to get a picture, but didn't have my camera with me since Oscar's arrival caught me off guard. I just have to remember her grey body as she was pulled away into the mid-morning sunshine.

For the time being, I am driving my friend Nancy's Jetta. Shortly after I arrived back from Africa, I went out with some friends and mentioned my car situation—specifically, that my Saturn had broken down a few days before I left the country and that I'd now have to find another one. And it so happened that Nancy had a car that she wanted someone to drive. (What are the chances?) Last year, she fell in love with and bought and fell deeper in love with a Toyota pick-up, and the Jetta has been sitting ever since, waiting for August when her daughter turns 16. The car had already been ticketed twice for having expired registration, parked out on the street in front of Nancy's home, and she didn't want it going idle. So we took care of getting it registered, I put it on my insurance policy, and now I'm driving Nancy's Jetta. It's a win-win. Except I think I'm the bigger winner. It's, like, WIN-win.

It would be just too easy to have this car at my disposal without any problems. On Saturday, I was headed across town to pick up my friend Marianne to head up the Canyon to visit some other friends and just have some time in the mountains, and I experienced one of those lovely on-top-of-the-world moments: Beautiful day, radio blaring, wind through the hair, so fortunate to be here and alive. Then a car pulled up beside me, a man and his son, and the man told me I had a flat tire.

Go figure. So I pulled into the closest parking lot, right across from the Men's Warehouse, and called Marianne. I'd be a little late. And probably, she would have to drive. She agreed to come lend a hand, and in the meantime, I rummaged around to find all the appropriate tools. I was a little skeptical of the jack, but figured out where I wanted it placed by the time she got there. A man in a white pick-up stopped on his way out of the parking lot to ask if I wanted any help. No thanks, I said, I think I've got it covered, and I've got a friend on the way. It's been a while since I've changed a tire, but I was sure Marianne and I could handle it.

There were just a few things. There always are. This is how all my field work goes—there are always a few things. And it wasn't just me on this one, although if I had lots of experience changing tires (and a 2 x 4, as it turns out), I'm sure I could have had it done in ten minutes. Which is what the guy AAA sent did. Still, there were a few things. (And how interesting would that have been? Bo-ring.) The first was that one of the lug nuts is special. As in, it's round with a specially-shaped indentation so that you have to have the special adapter (“key”) to fit onto the end of your wrench in order to get it off. And the key wasn't with the rest of the car-changing tools. I called and left a message for Nancy, who was at a trade show and who I didn't expect to hear back from. I called AAA, who said the keys were not something the service trucks carried, and that they could tow me to a dealer. Marianne called a dealership, who said we'd have to come in. At that same time, a group of four young men walked by, asking if we needed a hand, chipper as could be in long t-shirts and sunglasses. When I told them of our plight, they said the keys are actually specific to specific cars, so my idea of finding someone else with a Jetta and using theirs was probably not going to work. Huh. But then Nancy called back, and said where the adapter was in the car, and I found it exactly where she described, so there we were. Back in business.

When the cool kids walked back by, Marianne and I were laughing uproariously—a little punchy, admittedly—because we'd been trying to figure out how to get the caps off the two lug nuts that happened to have them, and after trying all the tools that were in the toolkit in the car with the spare tire, I had just used her needle-nosed pliers to pull one straight off with such ease it was comical, and one of the guys, also smiling, said, Hey, changing a tire's not supposed to be fun. They said they'd stop and help us out to see it through, but they had to go jump out of an airplane. I eyed the wrapped food they'd just bought. Yeah, one said, I thought I was hungry, but then once I bought it... I might just save it for later.

We were in the clear. I loosened the nuts, cranked up the jack, unscrewed the nuts the rest of the way, and pulled. And nothing happened. Marianne pulled. Another guy who was walking by and offered a hand pulled. We banged on it with Marianne's rubber mallet. (The girl's got a bit of a toolkit in her car. Brilliant.) We thought maybe we were doing something wrong, that there was another lock of sorts on the wheel, but when we took off the VW logo from the center of the wheel all we saw was corrosion. And we were already late getting up the Canyon, so I figured I'd just let AAA help me out the next day. Our jack was small and I was a little nervous banging too hard on the car, and what if there was something I'd overlooked besides? So, I screwed the lug nuts back in and lowered the car back down and threw everything back in the trunk and, mission aborted, we headed into the hills.

Thanks, Marianne.

I'd figure out the rest later.

On Sunday, between playing Ultimate Frisbee and meeting a friend for a house concert, I took the bus downtown. And on my way to try to catch another bus, short on time and unsure of the sparse Sunday bus schedules, I ran into Marianne. What a happy coincidence. She took me to my car.

Thanks, Marianne.

I called AAA and they said they'd send someone out, and that they should find me within 45 minutes. It was already close to 3:30, and I was supposed to meet my friend Mark at 4, so I was definitely pushing it. (Such a surprise, with my amazingly tight time management skills.) (That was sarcasm, for those of you who don't know me.) I had thought my back-up would be to just catch another bus up to Mark's if it looked like the timing wouldn't work, but the sparse Sunday bus schedule, and maybe the tire change would actually be faster, and after a morning of Frisbee I'm pretty much trashed, so the thought of walking and thinking was a little overwhelming. I sat in the warm black car and ate my burrito. (I'd realized in my post-Frisbee stupor after getting off the bus that I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Eggs, three hours of running around, and some water. At least I'd thought to shower before heading out.) And watched the time. Sometimes, the mechanics come right away, and I was hoping this would be the case. I had precious garlic needed for the pesto Mark was making.

At 3:58, the service truck pulled up behind me. And at 4:10, I was on my way to Mark's. Sometimes, life is beautiful.

The man who changed my tire was friendly, weathered, and clear-eyed; he got out of his truck with a glove on his left hand and waited to put the glove on his right until he'd shaken my hand hello. His jack was bigger and fancier than mine. And sturdier. (And yellow. For what that's worth.) He cranked the nuts off quickly (I'd left them loose besides) and pulled. And nothing happened. So he got a 2 x 4, about 2 ½ feet long, out of his truck and banged on my wheel. There was a car beside us, which made things a little complicated; I was glad it was him doing it, and not me. The wheel after a few hits began to budge. He hit the right and the left came forward a little bit, hit the left and the right came forward. But not by much. Whew, he said, I'm gettin' tired. Maybe if I hit it from behind, he said. He snaked up under the back of the car (rear left wheel) and positioned himself to ram. I would never have done that with my little jack. He rammed, and rammed again, and rammed again, and the wheel began to move a little bit and a little bit and a little bit and--“I've almost got it”--there it was! It was off. Rolling on the ground. Perfect.

The 2 x 4 was completely splintered at one end.

I've only had one other wheel that was that hard to get off, the mechanic said, and that one broke my 2 x 4 clear in half and I had to get another one.

Mark made fun of me for traipsing all over the world to do geology but not being able to change my own tire. Whatever. It was complicated.

And I just have to add that it's times like these that give me a little faith in humanity. How many people stopped to offer us help? There were at least one or two I didn't mention, so that makes for four groups, minimum. The same thing happened to us—Marianne and me, as a matter of fact, with her sister—in Tanzania. That's a different story completely, of course, but it's just nice to see that the world over (in my sample set of two countries) people are helpful when it comes to broken cars. There's hope for this planet after all.

Posted by beth at May 4, 2008 9:59 PM

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Posted by: Nicole at May 7, 2008 7:09 PM

Posted by: wilma - mother of beth at May 7, 2008 7:44 PM

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