August 7, 2011
We got up and headed for Texas this mornin'. One of Brian's uncles passed away, and we needed to go down for a memorial service.
We got to his folks' around 10 a.m., and he and his mom went to see his grandfather at the nursing home while I stayed behind and got Obie and I dressed and ready for the service.
When they got back, everyone finished gettin' ready, and we rode down with his folks in their van. This gave us a chance to take a quick snooze, since we were still tired from the rodeo.
It was a nice memorial, and I got to meet several of Brian's family that I had never seen. Afterwards, the church fed us. It was a wonderful meal, and the folks who served the food were as gracious and loving as you could possibly want.
After visitin', we headed back to his parents' house, hopped in the truck and began the long drive home. It was a pleasant journey for a long time.
When we got to Calera--it went wonky on us.
We threw a cap off a tire, and Brian limped the truck down the shoulder to a parking lot with a security light. After checkin' the tire, we figured no problem--a 15 minute job to change the tire, tops.
We got everything set up, and I began to crank the spare down from below the bed of the truck.
The cord the tire descends from came down--but not the tire or the piece that holds the tire up.
Brian gets under the truck and tries to get the tire down. He pulls, twists, does all kinds of things--but nothin'.
Now, let's just set the mood here.
My Beloved has been workin' hard all week, in a building that is HOT. He has been exhausted all week. He has done a full ranch rodeo the day before. He has had a pretty fair amount of sleep, but not as much as he really needs. He has had to drive down for a funeral, deal with his grief, and drive back in order to get up and go to work the next mornin'.
Now, a job that should have already been done 30 minutes ago is, well...you get the idea.
Suddenly, he rolls out from under the truck, stomps off, crunchin' gravel and grumblin' all the way. Then he proceeds to throw a hissy fit in the way that only a 6 foot 1 inch Redneck (or a 5 foot Southern Belle) can do.
I won't repeat his vocal utterances here. I will say that he came back to the truck and proceeded to whack his hand on the side of the truck bed repeatedly.
Since I'm under the truck at the time, lookin' at the tire and seein' if there was anything I could do--
it's sorta annoying. Especially with all the road dirt fallin' in my mouth and eyes.
I yell, "HEY! STOP THE THUMPIN!"
"BECAUSE YOU'RE ANNOYIN' ME!"
He stops, then crawls back under the truck with me. We try everything we can to get that tire to come down, but it ain't happenin'.
Then the cop drives up.
So I get up and go over to explain what was happenin'. By the grace of God, he is sympathetic to our plight. He has no solution for us, but he says he will drive back by later to check on us. I thank him and go back to the truck, where there is a glorious lack of progress.
Finally, after a couple of hours, and another visit by the cop--the tire suddenly descends like the gods in a Greek play, and we have no idea how. We don't CARE, we just grab it and start switchin' tires around. Then we are back on the road.
As we are talkin' we realize that we will not get home now until after 1 a.m., and Brian has to get UP at 3:45.
So I call his work and leave a message about what has happened, and that Brian will not be in.
We made it home, and since our friend Alyssa was kind enough to feed and water our animals, we were able to just collapse into bed and sleep.
Definitely no chores. Later, folks.
© 2011 by Evelyn Edgett