5. The Tire Guy

It was 9:10 pm on July 31, 2004 and we were on the side of Route 70 with a flat tire. Minutes before we had been cruising down the highway, when, Bam! The tire blew.

I know the date and time because I kept a detailed journal. And I kept a detailed journal because we were on a cross-country camping trip. A grand adventure that had taken us to 19 states and 10 national parks through hailstorms and rainbows, to deserts and oceans.

So here we were, after 29 days and 7225 miles, 68 miles from home, with a flat tire.

It was raining. We were on a hill. The car was packed to the gills. We were worried about cranking it up on that little jack, and we were having trouble getting the tire off.

We did have a cell phone, so we called a tow truck, but unfortunately GPS had not been invented yet, so we didn’t know where we were. The tow truck called back 30 minutes later to say they couldn’t find us and we were on our own.

We were tired, we were cranky, and we were screwed.

And then, through the darkness, a light appeared. Was it a UFO? Was it a train?

No, it was a random truck driver who stopped to help.

We pulled all our camping equipment out onto the road so we could unearth the tiny little doughnut of a spare tire, perfectly designed for a unicycle.

He calmly and confidently changed our tire, and we headed on into the night at a jaunty 50 miles per hour. All the way home to our little house, waiting for us in the night.

We all still remember the guy who stopped to help us on a random rainy night when we really needed it.