A few years back our well dried up. We’re thinking a good spell (years) of rain that well just might come back around. A deep snow pack that’s not vaporized by hot spring wind would help a lot. While I’m at it, I’ll put in a request for a barn to hold the many horses I’d love to own, and a nice working arena. Yep, that’s one of my fantasies.
Reality is, once a week I hitch the trailer up to my old truck and drive a few miles to the local water source. On the trailer is a 250 gallon tank, enough water to last through laundry, showers, and cleaning. Loaded with minerals but really tasty for drinking, though I fill jugs with that reverse osmosis water for coffee. Now, 250 gallons of water is one solid ton of sloshing weight. That sort of weight puts pressure on tires, and the smart thing is to keep them inflated
properly. Sometimes I get too backed up and think “I can get to that next time around.” Resulting in, you guessed it, a blown tire.
If this was one of the books I write and read, the day after I limped my trailer home on a wheel and a rim, a compellingly attractive but not quite handsome farmer would drop by to help, even though such a person hasn’t been seen by me, especially not at the end of a half mile private lane. Mayhaps a Navy SEAL or a ReCon soldier would wander by while training for battle in a hostile environment. Okay, so it’s not so hostile to me but my Canadian friends think all this dry brown stuff looks strange. Dirt, guys…it’s what’s under all the green stuff in your yards. I might even have a renegade Fae prince offer to help while working out issues with his kingdom under the hill.
Alas, ends up all I have is myself. So I had to get to it. Don’t let it get out but I’ve changed tires on my own before.
Also changed oil, alternators and a starter. Tried changing spark plugs but that didn’t work out so well. But a single small tire? No problem. It took an extra bit of lift to make the car jack work but the rest was slick and smooth. Soon enough I was strollinginto Wal Mart, asking if they could patch my tire. The guy, oops Sales Associate, behind the counter didn’t think so, and led me over to the shelves to show me they didn’t have the right rim. Guess he got the memo on show don’t tell, about the same time he had a humorectomy.
I ended up getting the correct tire at another place and doing the switch out. A minor chore,
but one I could handle on my own. Which I have to admit had its own reward. Though I wouldn’t have turned down a Highlander in a summer weight kilt, especially on a breezy day.
If you don’t have any tires to change out, you might spend this weekend immersed in marketing wizardry at the MFRW Summer Camp where you can get your head filled with a multitude of ideas on how to promote your books while reliving your youthful times at came. Virtual marsmallows are the best…all the flavor you can remember and none of the calories or tooth decay. You can get to the camp through the MFRW website, the Summer Camp Link. Hope to see you there for fun, friendship, and knowledge.