My night time delivery job can keep me out as late as 5 am or get me home as early as 12:30 am, it all depends on the amount of orders that come in every day. I don't mind working long shifts because I simply drive around and driving isn't really hard, but it is nice to get done early on Fridays. I like to get home and drink a 40 ounce beer before going to bed so early shifts are a welcomed change on the weekends.
This Friday was looking to be a good one. I knew I'd be done early because I was in Fairmont, WV around 11:45 pm and that means I can be back at my apartment by 1:30 or 2:00 am. This is when I usually grab a 40 ounce beer in the local convenience store. You see, PA is still stuck in the ice age and refuses to allow alcohol to be sold at the convenience stores, therefore I purchase beer in Ohio or West Virginia and transport it across state lines, sue me. Until the beer distributors stop lining the pockets of PA politicians I will have to continue to smuggle 40 ounce bottles of beer across state lines.
The 40 ounce beer selection isn't all that great, unless you enjoy malt liquor, so I usually stick to the champagne bottle when purchasing 40 ounce beers. I enjoy the High Life out of a 40 ouncer. I made my purchase and threw it into the back of the truck, I don't let it ride up front with me because I don't want it getting warm, so its forced to ride in the rear.
I was on my way to the last stop of the evening and could already taste the beer on my lips when something happened. The truck was hopping on three legs and a loud noise screamed from below.
Jesus Christ! If that was a homeless man then I hope the truck threw him into the higher grass, I thought as I made my way towards the shoulder of the interstate. It was too cold to be dragging a body into the woods, especially when I would have to leave my 40 ounce alone in the truck. I hopped out of the truck and looked at the tire. It looked like it exploded.
"Fuck!" I yelled. "You just had to steal this from me, didn't you?" I said, looking to the sky. "You just had to pull some shit to delay my beer drinking."
I jumped into the truck and pulled the emergency phone from the visor, I dialed the shop boss and waited.
"What is it Chad?"
"I blew a tire," I said.
"Well...change it."
What in the hell? Is he kidding me? Change it, I thought as huge tractor trailers zoomed past and shook the tiny truck in which I sat. The shoulder of the interstate was as wide as the truck and trucks were racing past at 80 mph. There's no way in hell I was about to change this tire.
"Ok," I said and immediately dialed my girlfriend. I screamed expletives into the phone and she suggested I call AAA. I continued yelling and finally slammed down the phone.
"Change it! Change IT! I"ll show you 'change it'," I yelled as I beat the cement with the tire jack. Positioned behind the truck, screaming at the top of my lungs, I beat the shit out of the highway with the tire jack. That night I was committing two crimes, illegal transportation and destruction of public property. I can only imagine what the vehicles in the other cars thought as they watched a single man reenact a road side beating, no real victim involved. It's no wonder nobody stopped to give me a hand.
I managed to get the truck hoisted and the 10 lug nuts removed from the tire. I had the useless tire removed in a few minutes but the I couldn't get the spare lowered from underneath the truck bed. It would not move. I cursed as I tore through the pages of the owner's manual and didn't see anything about how to use a shitty flashlight on the side of a dangerous highway. I mf'ed everything and continued to throw shit all over the side of the road. I finally succumbed to defeat. It was over an hour and the spare would not budge. I was pissed and hoped for a roadside mugging attempt. I needed to take out my frustrations.
Scenario: An elderly woman in her 70's stops to ask if she can be of any assistance. I scream, "What! You want my wallet?" I say and approach the vehicle, dirty hands, wielding a bent tire bar. "Get out, lady! We'll see who's going to be the victim during this robbery. "Psycho!" She yells and peels away.
I called AAA. I waited for over an hour and suddenly realized I had never checked on the passengers in back. I hurried to the back of the truck, like a mother who's left a baby in a hot car. I raced around back and pulled it from the tiny box containing cushions and foam fillings.
"Oh, my baby! You're safe."
The AAA guy informed me there was a safety bolt blocking the tire and it needed removed before the tire could be lowered. It never should have been there in the first place, he said, and that I wouldn't have been able to see it without proper lighting.
My night went from 1:30 am til 4:30 am and I never got to enjoy my 40 ounce beer. It is still resting in my refrigerator, recovering from the traumatic ordeal.
I penned my bosses a nice little note and left it on the dash of the truck for them to see on Monday.
Come Monday, I was written up but for delivering stuff to the wrong shop, not my fault, and nothing was said about the flat tire that almost cost me my life. Another story for another day.
The tire didn't make it but the beer did.
