I ran over a screw. Usually I can handle the little things. Heck, ususally I can handle the big things too. Being a single parents teaches you that skill. I was helping a cousin clean out of house. I drove over, went inside, worked, and before we took another load away, stepped out to make sure the truck was locked. And the tire was flat. The drivers side, front tire was flat. So I called my boyfriend. The same man I used to feel was the most supportive nonjudgemental man I could hope for, and he sighed. Not just any sigh, that sigh like your mom used to give you when you she was just so disgusted with you that she just could not find the words. That sigh. He is driving, he will call me back. Which is does, and I say to him, I ran over a nail and the tire is flat. He then wants to speak to my cousin, which is a man, to discuss if the tire is flat or just low. As if I would not know what a flat tire is? Then he goes on to ask if it looks like rubbed the sidewalls. I CAN SEE THE SCREW! But, what do I know about such technical car issues, being a woman and all?
Fast forward, we are all at the tire. Nothing will bring the neighborhood men together quite like a car issue. So now I hear this man that I love, state to the neighbor, I wonder how long she drove on it flat. Really? Cause I wouldn’t notice? The lack of steering, the low side of the car, that phlap phlap sound… I probably just missed all those, being a woman and all. May have driving around on that rim for months and didn’t know even know it…. I had to walk away.
Next time, I’ll change my own tire. And for you men, the sidewalls were fine, the SCREW was the issue after all….