It’s Friday so me and Tyson took a selfie. Flat tire style. I was headed to Mansfield to finalize some business I’ve been working on for a while now so I was happy. Tyson was in the back with his gold fish and Captain T’America so we was, too. Then I heard a weird sound coming from the font left of the car. It had to be the road because we’re in Mansfield, right? After hearing it more and more, I pulled over and looked and the tire was flat. If you know my father, this is where the Bass genes typically kick in, literally, and I start punching out windows, sweeping legs and Judy choppin’ everyone around me, including my son. But then I thought to myself, life is good, I’m out here in good ole’ Mansfield just hanging with my boy, so I’m to going to enjoy this. We’re going to enjoy this. I’m trying to be more like Jesus and less like Diemon Dave…
For me, it was more than a small inconvenience. It was a teaching moment in how we handle life’s curve balls. You grab it by the… Wait. No. Not that. You simply have to put things in perspective. Things could be a whole lot worse, and there are a lot of people in this world that would give anything to be able to change a tire, physically and mentally. If this is my biggest concern, let’s take a selfie. The sun was in my right eye.
Since I’ve been driving, I’ve never personally had a flat tire so this was also a chance to show my son how to be a man’s man. How to handle business. Work on cars. Because let’s face it. I sit at a desk and pound a keyboard all day using my brain trying to make the internet a prettier place while delivering incredibly witty comebacks. I don’t even really have to shower. And sometimes I wear the same clothes for a week. Seriously, I’ve done it working in a building of over 1,000 people because #TrailerPark.
So here I am about to do work on this flat tire and then I realize I need a key for one of the lug nuts. Of course I do. So I look in the trunk where the rest of the tire changing tools are and of course it’s not there. So now I’m thinking, maybe I will resort to leg sweeps and Judy chops after all because them Bass genes are strong. Then a middle aged white lady pulls over behind me. So I’m thinking great, here we are, I’m circling the car strategically planning my mode of attack on this flat tire and a lady is going to come bail me out in front of my son.
She asks if I need help and I say no mam, we’re good, I’m just about to change this tire as soon as I find the lug key. I realize she’s wearing paramedic clothes and apparently I’m across the street from a Fire Station or something. She insists on calling someone. A guy I’m assuming, but I insist I’ll be fine as soon as I find the key. As luck would have it, I looked in the glove box and found the lug key while she was still on the phone, so I told her that’s all I needed and we were good to go. She reminds me that if I need help to just call 911. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the 3 year old, but nonetheless, I appreciated the gesture.
Now that we’ve got the tool, it’s time to do work. I pull the jack out along with the longer rod that’s used the spin the little lever to lift the jack. I’m in a Camry so we’re talking mini jack here. I tell Tyson that’s what we’re going to use to lift the car. He’s completed mesmerized by this. And now I’m excited. I never thought of how that sounded to a 3 year old, but we’re about to use one hand and this jack to pick up a car. Just call me Captain T’America. At least I am in his eyes. And that’s all that matters.
While I’m digging through the trunk trying to get to the spare tire, I’m pulling out booster seats and baseballs and kids shoes and batteries and smoke alarms and baby strollers. I think to myself, if I ever needed proof I’m ‘bout that #dadLife, all I need to do is pop the trunk. I mean seriously, there’s a smoke alarm in my trunk. And I have no idea why. At any rate, T-Sizzle also sees his neon green folding chair, and he says he wants to sit in it. So I’m like sure man, and I pull it out and set it up on the side of the road. Just when I thought this couldn’t get more Trailer Park, it does.
I pulled over where there was extra concrete. It looked to be the start of a long driveway into the woods because I wanted to be further away from the road with T-Money. I’m thinking there’s plenty of room in case someone needs to get by. I start loosening all the lugs and putting the lug key on the last one and someone driving an Expedition comes flying in behind me on the side of the road, but turns right like they are going down the driveway. I realize it’s a middle aged black woman, so I assumed they lived there because let’s be real here, camera on or camera off: how many middle aged black women do you know are pulling over to help grown men change flat tires? Exactly. None. I know I don’t act like a grown man a lot of the time, but I like to think I at least look like one from the road. Especially with a kid with me. But maybe not. Whatever.
So she swings in pretty hot and stops fast, kinda skidding on the gravel. And I’m not making this up. She jumps out like Knight Rider and before her feet hit the ground, she unleashes a big spit of chewing tobacco on the ground. I’m asking myself, did that really just happen? Surely not. She doesn’t ask any questions. She walks straight to the back of her Expedition and pulls out her big floor jack and tire tool, walks over to me and says, “This will go a lot faster with this”. So here I am, trying to be a Captain T’America for my son and lift my car with one arm and a mini jack and black wonder woman comes flying in and steals the show. It’s like T-Pain’s neon green chair on the side of the road was some sort of bat signal she spotted from the woods.
To make things worse, she doesn’t bring it to me. She walks over, throws it under the car and starts jacking it up herself. At this point, I’m feeling pressure because I’m trying to use a key to loosen the last lug on a flat tire, and I feel like I’m in her way. It’s like those 5’4 blonde chicks in the scary movies wearing only lingerie and trying to unlock a door while being chased by a man with a chain saw. It was that kind of pressure. My fingers were shaking and I didn’t want to make eye contact because I knew I couldn’t see her gums sticking out due to her waud of chewing tobacco without saying or doing something that could have got me beaten with a tire tool.
But of course I delivered like Peyton Manning in a 2 minute drill, and I get the tire off. I start to put the lugs back on one at a time. Then she grabs two and starts to help me. Clearly, I’m not going fast enough for her. Where I parked was a little slope angled away from the road, and she mentioned the jack was slipping. At this point, I wasn’t concerned at all because I knew she would just pick the car up with her bare hands while I finished the lugs. We get the rest of them on and she lets the jack down. At this point, I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to T-Bone. Even Batman needs a sidekick? I don’t know. I’m not sure.
After she let the car down, she immediately reached and grabbed her own tire tool and started to tighten all the lugs like a boss. So I kind of stand back and watch. Then it hits me. This middle aged woman with a dip in her mouth is tightening the lug nuts on my tire while I sit here and watch her. While she’s leaned over and spinning away at the lug nuts, her shirt slides up in the back, and I see her tramp stamp of angel wings. A moment of clarity came over me, and all I could think was, “God, is that you?”
When she finished, she hands me the tire tool and says, “Here. You want to make sure they are tight?” So here’s my one shining moment. Of course I have to get them tighter, right? I turn the first 3 and none of them move. Remember, I got soft, keyboard hands. Then I get to the 4th and turned it a quarter and turned the last one a quarter as well. “Now they’re all tight,” I say. She picks up her tools, and I thank her repeatedly. She tells me to have a good rest of the Friday and T-Pain thanks her, too. All is well in our world again.
We drive off. I’ve got on blue jeans, a dress shirt, dress shoes and black hands. We get to our destination. I get out the car. Get Tyson out of his car seat and shut the door. He says, “Hey Dad, I like your new tire.” “Aw, man. Thanks buddy.” “I don’t like your old tire.” “Me either”, I say. “Now let’s go in here and get this done so we can get you to school. “Yaaaay, my school.”
