Smart Car

Last Sunday morning Hudson approached me with a rather pressing proposal. He felt "very strongly," he said, that we should sell our three vehicles and purchase a "smart car." While I appreciate the environmental concerns he persistently expressed, I began discussing with him the practicality of a "smart car" for a family of five...His solutioned response - "Well, that's the thing," he said, "we would have to get three of them for our family to fit..." (He also angers easily at the site of new retail or residential construction requiring the destruction of trees and such. His fear: "Are they trying to make us like New York or something?")

Little did he know our giant gas-guzzling, Texas-sized SUV actually IS smart. In fact, last night I was wondering when it was that my car became smarter than me? (Hold your tongues, my friends. I know your mom taught you "if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all.")

As I got in my car last night to leave work, exhausted from a too long day, I noticed a new warning indicator light had illuminated on my dash. I wanted to simply ignore it like the girl that I am, but the nagging of the bright (!) drove me to dig out my manual and investigate the meaning of this ominous, mysterious symbol. I quickly learned that it's illumination warned me of "low tire pressure." So I pulled over and made a quick circle about my car, kicking each of the tires as I went (a purely scientific endeavor). The back passenger tire was ever-so-slightly less firm than the other three, so it deserved a second and third kick before I decided it was obviously holding air, but quite possible the source of the cautionary (!). Satisfied with my investigative skills, and confident in my analysis, I continued my journey home.

The car drove great, but the (!) remained. And after traveling down the highway a few miles, a nice gentleman waved me down, pointing to my rear tire. I pulled over and realized that my car apparently knew what it was talking about. My tire was flatter-than-a-fritter...

I made a call to Heath, who was home alone with 5 kids (my niece and nephew were over for a sleepover). He only had 3 of 5 needed carseats and his truck only seats a total of 5 passengers, so my cry for help was futile. Now my father, whom I thank, had made sure I was not helpless when it came to automobile maintenance and simple skills of survival. In high school, I had effectively changed my own spark plugs and radiator hoses, changed my oil, and rotated my own tires in our garage at home. While it has been 14 or so years since such activities, I, having education in such things, ask Heath if he thought I could simply just change the tire myself. He did not laugh at me outright, but he did say that, while he felt I could eventually accomplish the task, my vehicle is very heavy (not like the little Mazda 626 on which I had learned) and I would probably hurt myself.

So I called the free emergency roadside assistance number on our extended warranty program. And within 30 minutes, Bruce from Pop-A-Lock was there in his bright orange shirt (with his 2 year old daughter happily kicking her legs in the backseat of his truck) to change my tire for free. Minutes later, our friend Fireman Wayne (who can be seen in previous post "The Return" in handsome waders near a waterfall), pulled up behind him upon seeing me roadside. He stayed with me and the Pop-A-Lock stranger until the ordeal was over to ensure my safety (Thanks, Wayno!).

All that to say that my smart SUV knew, with certainty, that my tire, while appearing normal, was damaged (beyond repair, I might add, with a huge gash on the inside of the tire) and defunct. And while the environment won't appreciate it's "smartitude," next time, I will!