Living With Vulnerability

On a recent Saturday, I had just turned the corner and was within walking distance of my house when my tire made a strange noise. I got out and checked the tire pressure. They were all at the right level, and I couldn’t see anything wrong with the tires. Unfortunately, when I started driving again, the noise returned. I called my mechanic, who graciously took my call and suggested limping it home as the shop was closed until Monday. With my window rolled down, I started to make my way home, but the car’s sound was loud and clanking. I tilted my side mirror all the way down, only to see my rear tire at an awful angle.

A neighbor yelled from across the street that my rear tire was falling off! I was so close to home, but he suggested not driving further. My gut agreed with that assessment, but I wanted to pull into my driveway. I had a throbbing vestibular migraine, and I felt unsteady on my feet as I walked to my house, my tears barely held at bay. I called AAA and waited for the tow truck. My neighbor and mechanic suggested having the guy from Triple-A tighten the tire, figuring it was loose lug nuts. 

I was fortunate to have a nice guy answer the call. He listened as I explained what had happened and told me he would try to tighten the tire. If that didn’t work, he would tow it. While I waited, I checked with a friend to see if she could give me a ride if I needed it. After 10 minutes had passed, the tow truck driver was driving my car into my driveway. The nuts on the control arm for the rear tire were coming off, which is why the tire was wobbling back and forth. He showed me where the problem was. I was so grateful that he could get it back to my house. I left it in the driveway until I took it to the shop on Monday. My mechanic tightened the bolts on two other control arms and didn’t charge me.                                 

No matter how strong I am, incidents like this leave me feeling vulnerable to the uncertainties of life that have become a part of my DNA since Mike’s sudden death 9 ½ years earlier. Being capable does not exclude me from wanting a helpmate to shoulder some of the load. I managed to get through this latest bump in the road through the kindness of the people I encountered that day, just as other people’s compassion has kept me going when I think I can’t take one more step.

“Look for the helpers. You can always find people who are helping.”

Mr. Rogers