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.