The Flat Tire Thanksgiving

Friends - Photo by Mary Vee
Island of Bolero, Venice, Italy

Thanksgiving week blessings.

Hubby walks out to his car dressed for work and lunch in hand. He happens to look down at the front tire, something I wouldn't do, and walks back to the house. The tire is flat.

This morning, he fills the tire with air and nurses it up to the tire store. Across the street is one of those hometown restaurants with basic food, servers with pads of paper and pencils, and unlimited gut rot coffee. "So, yah wanna get breakfast?" He asks me. How could I refuse?

Two hours later the car disappears into the shop.
Although Hubby devoured southern style biscuits and gravy et all the trimmings, he is nervous he won't have the car in time to leave for work.

We walk across the road, yes we paid the bill plus tip, and walk inside the tire store.

Before hubby can ask, the tire guy grabs keys off his counter walks them to my hubby and says, "Everything is taken care of."

Hubby was speechless. All that nervousness that had morphed into botheredness (I made that word up) had nowhere to go other than the man grunt.

The tire guy reaches out to shake my hubby's hand, "There's no charge. Happy Thanksgiving."

Hubby shakes his hand but remains stunned.

This is what small towns are all about. Love it.

So from our house to yours,

Happy Thanksgiving

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This post has been brought to you by the one word: FlatTiresMakeGreatReadingTimes

Comments

quietspirit said…

And Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours from Indiana.

05:15

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