Completing adult tasks is exhausting when you have anxiety. Those tasks can also end up being very expensive when anxiety gets in the way of doing things the “right way.”
Now, I probably shouldn’t put “right way” in scare quotes here but I’m still angry that apparently you’re not allowed to drive on a flat tire EVEN A LITTLE BIT?!? Like, a little 0.4-mile jaunt around the corner and across the main street to the tire shop is TOO FAR?? Ridiculous. Who makes up these rules?
The day after the Friday that will henceforth be known as my personal Black Friday (not the saving money kind, the suffering kind), I asked my wife what exactly a person is supposed to do with a flat tire if you can’t even drive 0.4 miles to the tire shop on it. She calmly explained that you have to stop immediately and change it.
As if!
To say I was a bit frazzled on my Black Friday would be an understatement. It was a big day. That night, I was slated to take my 10-year-old to an Orlando Magic game. The tickets were his Christmas present so we had splurged a bit to get decent seats. I chose a Friday night because that seemed like a relatively easy day logistically since my wife typically can get off work a little early. Best-laid plans and all that…
The first shoe dropped mid-morning when my wife texted that she was stuck doing charge at the hospital and wouldn’t be able to leave until around 7:30. The game was at 7:00, but no problem! She said I could drop the other two kids off at the hospital and they could ride home from there when her shift ended. Crisis averted.
About an hour later, my 13-year-old texted me to say he had to stay after school for trombone practice. I was beginning to hyperventilate a little at this point, but no worries! He said he’d be done by around 5:20 so that left us plenty of time to pick him up, drive to the hospital, and make it downtown to the game by 7:00.
After my youngest two got home from school, all the neighborhood children arrived to play. It was Friday, after all. It was fine! They played in the backyard, upstairs and downstairs in the house, and everywhere else. They requested that I bounce them on the trampoline, but I declined, stating that I was preparing for our evening out and/or having a panic attack. No one was fazed by this explanation.
At 5:00, I told everyone it was time to go home. They asked me to count for hide-and-seek and find them one more time. I complied. Breathing slowly and evenly into a brown paper sack while counting to 30. I shouted that I was coming, ready or not, and raced up the stairs two at a time. All the children were laughing loudly while hiding together under a pile of stuffed animals in a bedroom closet. I felt a little lighter because that was extremely easy and saved us at least 30 seconds.
I quickly herded everyone out onto the street, tossing shoes and rollerskates out the door. My children and I piled into the car. As we rolled up to the stop sign at the end of our cul-de-sac, I noticed that the car seemed to be listing significantly to the right, and about seven yellow lights on the car display were illuminated. I hopped out of the car, trotted around to the passenger side, and noted that the tire was pretty much completely flat.
No problem!
I jumped back into the driver’s seat and drove slowly out of our neighborhood and down to the stop light at the main intersection. I don’t know why I just kept driving. It seemed like the only viable option. My thoughts were racing. Mostly I was worried that someone was going to pull up beside me and make that “roll down the window” hand gesture. I would have to begrudgingly roll down the window so they could tell me that my tire was flat. Then, I would say something like “Yeah, I’m taking care of it!” in a chipper voice, holding back tears while pretending to be extremely thankful for their attention. Luckily, no one made me do this. My first lucky break of the day.
My thoughts continued to skitter about like our bunny Apollo when he escapes his cage and our dog Hades tries to maul him.
There’s a gas station about two blocks down. Maybe I can make it there, inflate the tire at the air pump (it’s not Wawa so I’d have to pay, but that’s okay!), go pick up Jacob from school, some miracle will happen, and then we can drive ten miles to the hospital without incident! Yes! This is the plan!
The light turned green and I made a left turn. From the sounds of it, there seemed to be a fair amount of clunking happening.
The tire shop! It’s right here! I’ve been to this one before and they only ripped me off a little bit. Maybe they are still open? If so, could I ask them to have a look? Seems a little forward but this clunking is getting a bit alarming.
I maneuvered slowly into the turn lane and rolled into the tire shop parking lot. It sounded a bit like I was driving with a square wheel at this point but that was probably fine. Totally normal and cool. I parked and told the kids to hold tight. I walked briskly inside before I could lose my nerve and asked the girl behind the counter if there was any chance I could get my tire looked at before closing. Get this. She actually agreed to it! It’s almost like tire shops are familiar with such requests. Who would’ve guessed?
She walked with me outside, took one look at the tire, and was like, “Yikes, yeah… we’ll have to order a new one. I can get it here tomorrow.”
I almost started weeping but pulled myself together enough to ask if there was any chance they could put the spare on for me. I was obviously mortified to have to ask this of a tire shop employee, but she said, “Sure, no problem,” and asked for my keys.
We sat down in the little waiting room. The kids started melting out of the slick plastic chairs onto the grimy linoleum floor while I texted my oldest child who was stuck at school and told him we’d be there as soon as the flat tire got changed.
About 20 minutes later we were on our way. In the end, we made it to the school and then the hospital without incident. My son and I slid into our seats at Kia Center just as the starting lineups were being announced. The Magic ended up losing to the Grizzlies by one point. The coach failed to call a timeout before the last possession and the Magic didn’t get off a quality shot. I was angry for a moment but then I realized, hey, maybe Coach Mosley has anxiety, too.
When you have anxiety, making adult decisions—like what to do when you have a flat tire and you’re running late for like seven different things or what to do if your team is down by one point with nine seconds left—is hard.
The next day, I returned to the tire shop and the same young woman was there behind the counter. I was still holding out hope that my pretty much brand-new tire could be patched up. She took one look at me and said while shaking her head, “You drove on it when it was flat. The sidewall is shot.”
Yeah, yeah. She’ll never understand what I went through on Black Friday. Maybe my in-the-heat-of-the-moment decisions were akin to lighting $300 on fire but anxiety is much like the house at a casino. It always wins.
I went back to the tire shop one more time on Monday for new tire installation. I walked both ways in the rain. That might sound like an old dad thing to say but it’s completely factual. In an uncharacteristic turn of events, the weather in central Florida was cool, drizzly, and gray all day long. I loved it unironically. Making the short walk under my little umbrella after dropping the car off, and later, to pick it up, was the highlight of my week even though when you walk anywhere outside your neighborhood in the heart of American car-centric suburbia/hell, it feels like you’re always one step away from certain death.
Cars splashed by doing 75 in a 40. While trying to dodge a car that unexpectedly turned into my path without signaling and while expediently bypassing the turn lane, I almost slipped on the wet, painted curb that had the same amount of traction as a luge course. It was a fun time.
I arrived at the tire shop shortly before closing once again. A full circle moment. My trusty service advisor was waiting for me.
“You’re all set!” she said with a smile. “Oh, one thing. Unfortunately, we didn’t notice that the tire pressure sensor in the tire was shot before we installed the new one. You can bring it back and we’ll take care of that. No charge for the labor.”
“Oh, okay,” I said. “That’s fine. Is that a common problem with flat tires?”
I wanted that question back the second it was out of my mouth. I instantly knew what was coming.
“Well.” Did I detect a little glimmer in her eye? “When you drive on it flat… these things can happen.”
Kill me.
Props for getting to the game on time! I would've called Triple A and missed everything.
Just because your suffering is self imposed and absolutely ridiculous doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Which sucks. For you. But how do you even have kids and a home that has a yard and a trampoline with access to a downtown, like - do you make a living? Kids are expensive. And exhausting. Especially if you have to make money first. How have you gotten this far.