Tires

You ever have one of those stories that you can't quite tell, but also can't keep it to yourself? In our experience, these are usually "God stories;" times and places where the unexpected and too good to be true intersect. This is one of those stories.

Sunday was a pretty typical summer Sunday for us. One of us (occasionally both) have been preaching somewhere in North Carolina, South Carolina, or Georgia on any given weekend this summer. This Sunday, we were headed south - to Georgia. We had been there several times, sometimes together, a couple of times only one of us as the other preached at another church, so we were familiar with the drive.

We were running just a few minutes behind as we left the house, but we usually had a 15 minute cushion build into our schedule anyway. With high gas prices, we had been leaving a little bit early and driving about 65 mph instead of 72 mph. Even with leaving a few minutes late, we had plenty of time. As we headed around Columbia, traffic was light (as it usually is early on Sunday morning) and we were making good time. As we neared Orangeburg, the usual road noise of the front left tire changed slightly, and the car began pulling a little bit to the left.

We pulled off to the side of the read and saw that the tire seemed to be a little low. I pulled the emergency kit out of the back of the car and used the air compressor to pump the tire back up. Not that 12 volt compressors are very efficient, but in a few minutes the tire looked more normal and I was pretty sure we could get to the next gas station to finish filling it up. Wrong!

We drove about 2 miles down the road, and suddenly it sounded like we were driving on a gravel road - with the rocks bouncing up and hitting the floorboards of the car. What we were actually hearing was the tire disintegrating. Bits of rubber were coming off of the inside sidewall and flying everywhere. Very quickly, the tire went completely flat and starting flapping - just as I was pulling off onto the shoulder - again.

Needless to say, I was not dressed to change a tire. We have AAA, but we also did not have much spare time (not if we wanted to get the preacher to church on time). Fortunately, I did not have on my good suit - I had opted for something a little less formal because of the 90+ degree days we have been having. I took off my clerical shirt, laid a blanket that we carry out beside the front left tire, and starting looking for the necessary tools to change the tire.

I had never changed the tire on a PT Cruiser before, so it took me a couple of minutes to remember that the spare tire I was looking for was underneath the car. Then, it took a couple more minutes to figure out the mechanism that lowered and released the spare. Then came the fun job of breaking the lug nuts loose (with the factory supplied tire tool), removing the tire, installing the spare, and then tightening up the lug nuts so we could drive again. All during this, traffic was blowing by at 70+ mph and no one seemed to care how close they were to the shoulder, how fast they were going, or if there was any danger to the guy trying to change a tire on the side of the road.

I am a little out of practice at changing tires and probably won't have a NASCAR pit crew coming to recruit me any time soon, but I did get the tire changed in about 20 minutes. By the time I had everything back in the trunk, I was not happy with my fellow travelers - all those people who had passed by, not stopped to see if we needed help, or even moved over a line to give us some safe space. No police cars came by, no emergency road help, nobody. I changed the tire and was just glad that it had gone flat while we were both in the car, rather than when one of us was traveling alone.

Finally, back on the road, we arrived just as the organist was beginning the prelude. Since Ruth Ann was preaching, she went to get ready and I went to sit in the first row. All during the service, I alternated between being thankful that the mini-spare got us the rest of the way, wondering where I could get a new tire on Sunday afternoon, and being a bit miffed at all of the uncaring people who had zoomed past us while I was changing the tire.

At the end of the service, one of the couples we have gotten to know came up and said that Charlie would find us a place to get a tire and would take us out for lunch while it was being installed. Charlie and his wife led us to the nearest Wal-Mart (where else do you get a tire on Sunday?) and then took us to lunch. After an enjoyable lunch, we came back to Wal-Mart to find out that the tire they thought they had was defective and that our car was sitting right where we left it - still with the mini-spare on it. Turns out they needed to ask me a question, but that they had not called my cell phone. After a few frustrating minutes of clearing up the fact that I needed and wanted a tire, and whatever they had would work (no - I did not care what the tread pattern looked like), they finally got a tire and started the installation process (again).

All this time, Charlie and his wife insisted on waiting with us, and kept chatting with us about kids, grandkids, and various other things. Finally, we saw them drive our car out of the garage and bring the keys in. Charlie walked with me to the cash register to make sure our car was ready. Once we were assured that it was, and told how much, Charlie whips out his credit card to pay for our new tire. No amount of arguing from me was going to work, so I finally settled for saying "Thank You!"

We then headed for home - with full stomachs and a new tire - all paid for by our new friend, Charlie. And those thoughts about all those drivers who ignored our early morning troubles? Gone - replaced by the generosity of someone who just could not stand to see us have to pay for a new tire because we came to preach for his church that day.

We praise God for people like Charlie, and for those "God moments." And again to Charlie - we say "Thanks!"