A few clouds. Low 68F. Winds light and variable..

A few clouds. Low 68F. Winds light and variable.

My 67th birthday fell on a Monday back in April, and it was raining. Didn’t matter. I had inspection work to do at several land-cleared sites in the Gilmer and Fannin mountains, and was ready to get to it. There was only one hitch — our publisher at the Ellijay Times-Courier, Andy Ashurst, texted to let me know our work van had a flat tire. Suffice to say, something had to be done soon before that week’s edition could hit the streets.

Teresa and I have had an American Automobile Association membership for years, and I’ve used it a couple of times.

But why should I bother Bear Patterson, who has the local AAA contract, when I see him all over the county taking care of more serious automotive issues? Can’t a 67-year-old man change a flat tire?

Because the pavement was wet, I grabbed some cardboard to lay down on, got the jack set under the van, jacked her up and took the flat to Russell over at Ellijay Tire.

After several hours of inspecting, I went back to get the tire and slammed it back on the van. All before nightfall.

On my birthday. Obviously, my 67th year was going to be a breeze.

Then two weeks ago, I slept in on a Wednesday morning (till just after 4 a.m.) since Burt had delivered our newspapers from Franklin the night before. By midnight, I’d filled all our boxes and made some drops at stores. Then just before 5 a.m. after leaving subscribers’ papers at the post office for shipping all across the fruited plain, I heard that tell-tale “wumble-wumble-wumble” sound and stopped to get out and look. Yep, another flat tire — in the middle of Industrial Boulevard. This was trouble, at least as far as the one-man circulation department was concerned.

Immediately I called to awaken my sweet wife and told her to bring our old van and come get me; she was going on my full delivery route for the first time this morning. (Hey, she’s always saying “If there’s anything I can do …”) Then I called the 911 back line and told them the situation; a dispatcher told me not to leave the van and someone would be on the way. Soon, a couple of young Ellijay policemen arrived and called the wrecker service on duty that week. One of them asked for my license, and by then Teresa had arrived and we took off to the office to get the unaddressed bundles of newspapers for the stores. I didn’t have time to change a flat.

Moments later, 911 called and told me to go back and get my license. As I pulled up, I told the officers, “Well, guys, if you ever had me dead to rights for driving without a license, this is it.” They laughed, returned my license and we were on our way. Thanks again, Russell and crew, for fixing the tire. And Ellijay PD for not making us wait around.

Then just last week, I walked out the door when we were staying at our Varnell home and immediately saw one of my van tires had gone flat overnight. I found the jack, but the factory lug wrench wouldn’t fit the tire lugs. Hmmm. About that time, our neighbor Gary walked out of his house, saw what I was doing and asked if he could help.

When asked if he had an “old-fashioned” four-way lug wrench, he walked over to his SUV and pulled one out. (It’s not the first time by far he’s been a good neighbor, even getting out in the cold a few years ago to pull me out of a deep snow when I parked too deep in the yard.)

This time, though, it wasn’t getting the tire off that was the problem, but getting the jack to work. Because my old work van has seen its better days — and was sitting on an incline — the jack kept buckling when the rusty underside wouldn’t hold it up as I began to crank. I know, I know, the parking brake — but it didn’t appear to be functioning. Finally, after several attempts — and saying my Sunday school lesson a few times — I found a stable place underneath and got the wheel off.

By then, I’d found that I couldn’t get the spare out from under the rear end of the van. Sheesh, the vagaries of vehicle ownership! I could have called for a AAA wrecker, I suppose, and gotten them to take the entire van to a tire shop or the Walmart auto center. But they charge extra to tow it over so many miles, and besides, I’m 67 and can change a tire, you know.

Thinking back over the years, I can’t remember having a blowout while driving or a flat tire on the side of a busy highway I’ve had to change. Most of the time, I just walk out of the door and see a temporarily immobile vehicle due to a distinct pneumatic abnormality.

Although some might believe it’s naive, I like to think the good Lord has been watching out for me.

They’d say I’ve had flats “in luck” instead of being “flat out of luck.”

Well, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. Still, I may just stay home on Birthday No. 68.

Mark Millican is a former staff writer for the Dalton Daily Citizen.

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