While I was driving home this Tuesday, I had my first flat tire. I was on the west side of Wichita Kansas and still had almost 250 more miles to drive. I was not so much as worried as I was aggravated. I had already been on the road for 6 hours, and simply not in the mood. It seems that my patience had blown along with my tire.
After pulling over, and moving all my things out of my trunk, I was finally able to reach my spare tire. I spent another 10 anxious minutes trying to find my tire iron, but I had never done so from my car, so I was unsure if I even had one in the car. I vaguely remember checking the trunk when I bought the car, but couldn’t recall ever finding one. After what seemed like an eternity, I did find my tire iron.
A kind Lieutenant from the Sheriff’s department stopped while on his way home from work. After a few minutes, we had the tires changed out only to find out that my spare donut did not have any air. Whether this was due to a leak or simply because of age was yet to be seen. I spent half an hour waiting for the county’s downed motorist rig. It ended up that my tire did hold, and I was soon on my way.
I felt quite ridiculous praying about such a trivial matter, but I think that God really appreciates these prayers. I imagined an angel with its lips on the Schrader valve blowing air into my tires at the same rate that it was leaking out. I ended up trying to do the math of how fast such an angel would have to barrel roll in order to keep up with the revolutions of my tires. Such is my mind.
Although the ordeal was stressful, I ended up being a little bit more thankful this Thanksgiving than I would have been.
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