Cynicism and a Flat Tire

Cynicism and a Flat Tire

My cynicism has been growing faster than the drought

has been killing crops in the bread basket this summer.

 

Then I get a flat tire in 96 degree/104 heat index weather

and manage to pull into a convenience store parking lot.

 

Five guys notice and ask if they can help and I’m feeling

really wonderfully cold rain drops fall on my back

 

while I’m bent over the flat sweating bullets and trying

to free the frozen lugnuts on the wheel.  My wife is ready

 

to go into the store to buy a small can of WD-40 when

some guy stomps on the crowbar and loosens the nuts.

 

Someone else tells me to kick the heck out of the top

of the wheel to loosen the stuck tire and it pops right off.

 

Three blue-collar white guys, one Hispanic dude and one

Burly black guy are there.  The black guy comments on

 

How nice the spare looks.  The Hispanic emerges from

The store and kiddingly offers me one of his ice cold

 

sixteen ounce beers. I hold the spare in place while my

wife screws on the lugnuts.  I’m thinking maybe one

 

of the helpers could be gay thus forming the perfect

rainbow coalition following the storm, but maybe I

 

should just be glad for the refreshing rain which really

wasn’t there but felt like it as I looked at my sopping wet shirt.

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