Flat Tire and High Heels

The comments on my previous article about the importance of girls learning and doing the ‘manly’ stuff and boys learning and practicing what the old paradigm would call ‘woman’s work’ so that none of us need be unduly dependent on another made me think of another story I want to share with you.

This story happened in the fall of 1991. I would have been just starting grade 12. My brother and I were heading to St. Ignatius for the 9 p.m. mass which was always amazing because of the beautiful music from the folk group (they even wrote and sang original music) as well as the well thought-out homily (talk) given by the priest. This was in those days when I was a regular church-goer; why I am not now will have to wait for another post. We went in my dad’s car, a Plymouth Horizon, which we had borrowed and I was driving. We parked across from the church in a parking lot and all would have been well, except for the fact that there was now a nail sticking in my dad’s front right tire and the tire was flat. My dad would need his vehicle to go to work the next day and it was already 9 p.m. I felt terrible and responsible. My brother told me that he had to get to mass as our mom would not be happy with him if he missed it and he skedaddled away, the little rat or maybe I should call him a little snake and say he slithered away (luckily I really love him a lot). Sorry I digressed… anyway…here I was in a rapidly evaporating day, I was parked in a drug store parking lot near the fence away from the road, so there was very little light. I know I didn’t mention this yet, but it was getting cooler and I was dressed in a skirt, pantyhose and heels. I think I had a sweater on. The first thing I did was walk over to Chuti’s house (two blocks away) to see if he could help me. I was out of luck, he was away. His older brother was also away. Finally, I borrowed some jeans from his younger brother, took a deep breath and walked back to tackle the changing of a tire….. yes, you guessed it… in heels (I couldn’t get shoes that fit that were more comfortable I think).

I had never done this before, not even participated or watched someone else do this. I figured that as I could read, I would figure the rest out. So, I started with looking for the spare. There was not much light, so I turned on the headlights. After much poking and prodding,I figured out where the spare was.  Then, I found some instructions and the jack and decided to get started. I managed to jack up the car and unscrew 2 of the 4 bolts on the flat tire, when I was startled by a young man sneaking through the break in the fence very close to me. I do not know who was more scared: him or I. I was startled because I was alone and felt vulnerable (having been abandoned by my suddenly pious brother as my brother was maybe praying for me at mass) and he because I gasped and he saw me eying him with a crowbar in my hands. We sorted things out pretty quickly and I twisted his arm sweet-talked him into unscrewing the last two bolts which were vexing me as they were a little rusted. After the fence-sneaking-guy who scared me half to death nice young man went on his way (no doubt, he might have also been heading off to mass, albeit quite late, I don’t know for sure), I continued with my new project. After taking off the flat tire and returning it to the compartment I had taken the spare from, I fitted the spare and was in the process of re-bolting the bolts, when Chuti arrived on the scene. I think he was quite shocked to see me done, but very impressed.

That night lives in my mind as one of ‘aha moments’ which tell me that I can do anything I set my mind to. I impressed myself with my calmness to deal with the obstacle rationally and head-on. I was a hero in that moment because I chose to be. It taught me that I am bigger than my obstacles and when I am not, make no mistake, I will grow bigger.