Thursday, March 5, 2015

My Hero

Last Friday night, my husband and I headed out to dinner.  We were alone, looking forward to an evening together to catch up.  Before long, we heard a weird sound coming from the back of the suburban.

We stopped to check and discovered a bolt in the tire.  With a sigh, we headed toward Walmart to see if they could fix it.  Walmart on a night out together!  It's a dream destination!

But before we got far at all, the bolt came out and we had a flat.  My husband quickly pulled over into a funeral home parking lot, which was thankfully well lit.  We bundled up with what we had, and got out into the frigid night air.  The "real feel" temperature was -2.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the cold? Within two seconds I was frozen through and through, certain frostbite and lost digits were imminent.  My husband doggedly read the manual, not complaining or slowing in the tedious work of lowering the tire and assembling the jack.  Several times he had to adjust the equipment, since the directions were apparently written with the expectations that one's fingers were fully operational and not nearly frozen.  He had to consult the manual repeatedly as well, while I lamely aimed my iPhone's flashlight in the near vicinity (usually) of the area he was working.  I was also in charge of scanning the area for unsavory characters, of which there were three, and also multiple police cars flying by, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

I'm tellin' ya, dear reader,  I would have given up multiple times.  The whole scene was overwhelming, freezing and horrible.  Truly, as cheap as I am, I would have called for roadside assistance, or abandoned the whole dang vehicle and called a taxi.  It was cold, it was frustrating, and it was distressing.

My husband, however, never slowed down in the quest to get us operational.  He kept on reading and rereading the manual in the semi dark, crawling under the suburban on the damp, filthy concrete, and generally being awesome.  He even sent me into the car to get warm at one point (when my flashlight services were no longer needed - but I still ran surveillance from the front seat), forgiving me even when I accidentally turned the key too far and started the car, probably flooding his face with carbon monoxide.

It took about 45 minutes, all told, due to the weather conditions, but he got 'er done.  And I was so thankful.  When he got back into the burb, I told him I had never found him more attractive.

And since it was only 8:15, we proceeded to our dinner destination and enjoyed the rest of our evening, crisis free.

1 comment:

Jody said...

We had our first flat in our Suburban this summer. We were at some (very) helpful parishioners' house. The problem was, the spare didn't lower like it was supposed to! It was good and stuck.

Said helpful parishioners both attempted to help and then drove me to the nearest Sam's Club to get a new tire (on Labor Day).

I just found your blog because of Katie Luther. It reminds me of our family :)