In 1982 I came home to Wisconsin from Wyoming for a visit. On that visit I had a flat tire. No tire iron my dad offered me a tire iron that he used for a grab-hook to pick up his set lines (he modified all sorts of neat things that were for one use then used them for something they were never intended for). I used that iron - it had some sort of warped defect where the thing is supposed to grab the bolds. When you twist it just right? It gives. When it gives? You bust a knuckle. I hurt my knuckles that day... but I didnt have a tire iron and he gave it to me. Several years later in Kansas I had a flat. I had that tire iron and another one. Thinking I had the right one? I busted some knuckles. I promised to shit can that damn thing the moment I got home. I didnt. In Wisconsin - oh... about 1994 I had to rotate tires. I busted a knuckle. That aggravating thing needed to go... I tossed it. No I didnt. I tossed the wrong one. Its 2013... I sold a bunch of stuff a few years ago. Tire irons etc... I sold my truck last spring when it broke. Sold the stuff in it too (forgot to take it out). Today I rotated the tires on this new truck. I busted some knuckles, hit my knee when it gave way and I looked at this g-d thing in my hand and realized it was THAT tire iron. Thanks DAD!
Posted on: Sat, 02 Nov 2013 23:31:50 +0000
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