Chronicles of a Father-to-Be: Part VIII

On Friday, Andrea got some very exciting news and it seems as though Baby's arrival is very imminent.  But this entry isn't about baby's soon arrival.  It's about the final challenge to gain the title of fatherhood - fixing a flat tire.  

Let's be clear - I'm not mechanic and I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to fixing anything regarding vehicles.  Earlier this summer it took me 2 hours to change the battery because I dropped a screw into the heart of the engine block.  Usually when it comes to fixing something on anything I own, something worse has to happen immediately after that.  This trial would be no different.

As I hear the wonderful baby news on Friday afternoon, my wife also informs me that she was unable to get to her appointment today because Elaine (our mid-size Hyundai Elantra), had a flat right-front tire in our driveway.  At the time, I wasn't too concerned, knowing that we had a spare in the trunk.  After a few minutes of fooling around, I find spare tire and the jack.  Here I discover the first roadblock - no torque wrench (to remove the lug nuts).  You'll find this whole adventure is like that cartoon with Sylvester when he has the can of cat food but no can opener.

I go inside and do a quick research on torque wrench sizes, and go to the store in the other car.  When I return, it takes all my strength - and a bit of fancy legwork - to loosen the lug nuts.  I remove the flat tire, and proceed to using the car jack.  Crank, crank, crank.  As I'm about ready to install the spare wheel, disaster strikes.  The car starts slowly moving forward, removes itself off the jack, and the entire front end of the car kisses the driveway full of pebbles, dirt and concrete.  For a moment, I'm at loss for words.  I retreat to go consult my wife.

Andrea - at 38 weeks pregnant - is now watching me and providing moral support as I now have a second jack from our other car (Serena).  If I can use the second jack to lift up the car enough, I can retreve the first one which is currently crushed under the car.  This plan works and I now am in possession of both car jacks.   As I'm working both of these jacks, I realize the sun is now setting fast and its getting cold.  Working quickly, I raise the car high enough again to install the spare tire.  But just like last time, Andrea and I both see the car slowly moving forward, and watch in horror as it falls off BOTH the jacks smacks the ground a second time.  I exclaim loudly a swear.

With the car now at least 4 feet forward from its original position, Andrea finds an overhead light out of nowhere and we reassess the situation.  The jack closest to the axle is pinned under the car again, but the extra one is accessible.  "How about you turn on the emergency brake?" my wife kindly suggests; I feel like an idiot.  Repeat above process and I'm finding that on my fourth and fifth time using them, I'm quickly quite efficient at using car-jacks.  In less than 7 minutes, the car is suspended successfully and doesn't fall off.  I install the spare tire successfully.

I test the car to assess if any damage occurred when it fell.  In reverse, everything is flawless.  Driving a few feet forward we hear a dreadful, screeching noise.  I get out of the car and upon further inspection, we now conclude that spare tire is now flat.  All attempts to inflate the tire with our air compressor prove useless, and the evening concludes with bitterness and defeat.  An inflated tire must be obtained tomorrow.

Saturday morning starts with a meal of french toast and ends with me taking a trip to the closest tire store to see if they patch the original tire.  No dice.  So I order a new tire and pick it up 5 hours later.  I return with inflated tire, jack and torque wrench.  In 10 minutes I have the spare tire off, emergency brake on (haha, I learned!), and the new tire on.  Time for a test drive.  Silent when backing up, but screeching all the way down the block.  Frustrated, I turn to the Internet for diagnostics and advice.  Could be brake pads, bad rotor, or pebbles stuck in the rotor.  "Great," I say as I roll my eyes thinking how many pebbles must have gotten jammed into the rotor when it hit the ground TWICE.

Outside I go.  Jack the car, emergency brake on, new inflated tire off.  Flashlight and Leatherman tool in hand I start inspecting the rotor.  Surprisingly, no pebbles to be found.  However, I do part of the axle guard touching the rotor.  So Leatherman transforms into pliers and I bend the metal back.  New inflated tire back on, jack down, emergency brake off, and another test drive.

The car runs silently.

Upon realizing that after hours of labor, and strife, and grief, and cold and mud, and backache have achieved the goal at hand, I know now, undoubtedly, that I am ready to be a father.

For the final pregnancy pictures, see Andrea's Blog here!