streetcars named teresa …

I’m depending on the kindness of strangers.  There was one this morning:  a man said my tires looked low.  These types of things, now, are starting, I was waiting for them.  I didn’t know what the first one would be.  Truthfully I thought it would be a light — the one in the foyer I assumed, the one that’s way high up and needs a ladder to be changed.  I thought it would be that, but it wasn’t, it was my tires. 

My kind morning stranger told me my tires looked low, and then he told me to drive to Les Schwab.  He said they’d take care of it in less than five minutes, he was right, but I was ten pounds low!  My air guy disapproved.  Ten pounds.  How would I have known I was ten pounds or twenty pounds or God forbid, 100 pounds low?  I wouldn’t have, except for my stranger.  Because before today I’d never looked at my tires, I couldn’t be bothered.  I feel bad about it now, of course.  I was dismissive of them and in retaliation, they loosened their air, I deserved it.  Going forward I’ll give them the respect and attention they deserve and I will drive to Les Schwab, like my air guy said, every month to six weeks and have them checked.

They will not go ten pounds short again on my watch.  No way. 

There are things that are going to break, things that I never imagined.  Emergencies are going to flare up, my tires are going to be low and in the short term I am relying on the kindness of strangers.  

Milan Kundera has the best book titles of anyone I know, and one of them is “Life is Elsewhere.”  It is; life is elsewhere.  Last night it was in the Irvington District in a roomful of smart, accomplished women, and one man, with lots of wine.  This morning Life was at Les Schwab.  This afternoon it will be in Newberg with John Bozarth, he’ll buy me lunch, and immediately following that Life will be at 3rd Street Pizza for a little boy’s birthday. 

Tonight, of course, it will be here, where I am now, with books and a keyboard and some chapters polishing off. 

My tires are pumped up and beautiful now, they look radiant, their confidence shines.  Stop by and admire them, if you want, I’ll make you popcorn.