Just In Case

I've been thinking about vacations and I thought it was about time for another story about the ghost of vacations past. As with all good vacation stories I love telling this out loud. This will have to do. But do me a favor, whenever I mention Sylvia's name imagine a huge you-did-this-to-us sort of smile on my face! And yes, I would be pointing at her while she laughs. Agreed? Let's continue.

Long long ago when Sylvia and I still had money (before kids) we decided to take a trip to see her high school friend Lisa in Arizona. There was a new baby involved and Sylvia (YDTTU = you did this to us!) had a need to see Lisa's new baby. Let's go. When? Since it was close to New Years we decided to make it an extended trip and add a visit to Las Vegas for good measure. For many reasons too boring to mention we decided to fly to Vegas, stay a few nights, then rent a car and make the drive to Arizona.

When we got to Vegas we called Sylvia's mom to let her know that we made it. Answering machine. Our flight across two states beat her parent's 20 minute trip home from San Jose. Get that? Flying is faster than driving. We were already relaxing in the Mirage hotel while her parents were trying to navigate confusing parking garages and Bay Area traffic. We didn't find this out until later.

While in Vegas we wandered around, gambled a little (very little), watched Siegfried and Roy make a horse disappear right in front of us, and found out I was allergic to the penicillin I was taking for strep throat. According to the newest ad campaign for Vegas I am not supposed to tell you about all of this but I suppose I can make an exception. It was a good trip and I could tell you about some of the adventures we had while there, but today is for Lisa and the drive.

When we left for Arizona it was uneventful enough. Vegas desert, Hoover Dam, more desert, more desert, tell me why we decided to save a few dollars to drive instead of fly? More desert, and then we hit civilization. Remember, this was back in the days before cell phones. I'm pretty sure it was back in the days before pagers but I digress. Our very detailed instructions from Lisa were, "Drive into town. Call." The convoluted directions to their base housing were too complicated to deal with. As soon as we got to a pay phone (remember those?) we put in our dime (remember that!?) and called Lisa. Excited screaming between old friends, yes we're here, OK, see you in a little bit.

Back in the car Sylvia says, "She told us to drive to the Circle K and wait." At this point I need to tell you about the town Lisa was living in. It was one of those cities with the main road that is miles long. I should also mention that there is a Circle K convenience store on every corner! We were in Circle K heaven. The landmark we were looking for was mocking us with its sheer availability. It was like Starbucks and Subway had an affair and the prolific results all landed in this town. (for the record-I am pretty sure there were no Starbucks at this point in time but you get the idea) If you were in one Circle K and they were out of what you were looking for the clerk could check another store's stock by walking to the door and saying, in a normal voice, "Hey. You have any king sized Butterfingers over there?" Many, many, Circle K's. (I suppose that this part of the story could include pointing a finger at Sylvia's friend saying, Lisa did this to us! but I didn't want to get too confusing)

When it became painfully obvious (about 12 seconds after we started driving) that we were in trouble of going to the wrong Circle K we pulled over at another pay phone to call again! This time on the phone I hear laughing, followed by Lisa's husband coming to the phone to give Sylvia the real directions. We were met at the McDonalds parking lot which magically had a street name attached to it. Go figure.

We had a great visit with Jim and Lisa . We went to Sedona, I held the new little guy, he cried, and we got ready for the New Year's Eve party at the base where Jim was working. As we were getting ready, we talked about when we needed to leave the next morning (yes New Year's Day) after the party, so we could make the flight. This is when it gets interesting.

We had figured out how long it took us to get here, divided by the number of Circle K's, carry the two...if we left at 6 in the morning we would be fine. Then Sylvia out of the blue says, "We should leave at 5 just in case we have a flat tire." Not nonspecific difficulties, not traffic, not general car trouble. Flat tire. OK dear. We can leave at 5. Works for me. No problem. Now Lisa came in and asked when we had decided to leave. Sylvia, "We're going to leave at 5 in case we get a flat tire." Really Sylvia? I have never had a flat tire and, as far as I knew, neither had Sylvia. Why the sudden worry? No problem again. Let's go have fun at the party.

While at the party we were met with the usual "these are our friends from California" kind of introductions. Curious, the newcomers would ask, "Oh? When do you go back?" Sylvia again, "We fly out of Vegas tomorrow. We are going to leave at 5 tomorrow morning. Just in case we get a flat tire." Right now you have to picture me looking at Sylvia with my head tilted to the side, eyebrows scrunched into a curious shape, and my shoulders shrugged with my palms up. "Huh? What is this new fixation with the tire?" As the years go by and the number of times I tell the story increases, the number of times she mentions the impending flat tire increases. At this point I think I am up to 63 but in reality it was probably four or five. I was perplexed but managed to have a good time all the same.

In the morning the alarm went off, we got ready, we said good byes, and got into the car to drive to Vegas. At 5:00 A.M. (Just in case) Uneventful trip out of town. We counted nine hundred eighty two Circle K's as we left town and entered the desert to get back to Vegas to catch our flight. Not a care in the world as we traveled along the highway back toward the airport. I should take this opportunity to say that if you have never driven through the desert at sunrise, I would highly reccomend it. It is beautiful. Do not make the mistake of driving through the dessert at sunrise because that will just get whipped cream all over your car.

About two hours into the trip something happened. Now I'm sure at this point I really don't need to explain exactly what happened. I am not terribly secretive about my foreshadowing. There should be no mistaking it. In the middle of the desert at about 7 in the morning I heard, bump, thump, thump, thump, thumpthumpthumpthumpthump....

You have GOT to be kidding me! (This is exactly when you are supposed to be seeing me say, YOU DID THIS TO US!) A flat tire. At the side of the road loosening the lugnuts I call to Sylvia looking on from the other side of the car that she should get the camera because no one would believe this story! She sheepishly lifted her hands into view and showed me the camera. Apparently there were people in her past who would not have seen the humor in this situation and she wasn't quite sure how I would take her jinxing me into needing to change a tire. As I said, this was a long time ago. Before she realized that my philosophy of, If I am going to laugh about it in the future I might as well start now, is darn near bulletproof. And I am always on the lookout for a good story.

At the risk of having everyone reading this story think I am making large portions of this up I need to tell you the next part of the story. As I was beginning to change the tire on the side of the road, on New Year's Day, early in the morning, a lone car pulled up behind us. There were no other cars on the road...at all! In our moment of need this man jumped out of his car and grabbed a floor jack out of the trunk of his rather ordinary car. He came over and finished changing our tire. No questions asked. He just decided to do a good deed for us that morning. I was happy he decided to start his new year with us. I am also happy that I didn't need to do the trunk equivalent of the Rubik's Cube to get out the jack. I don't know who you are, Good Samaritan, or why God decided to send you our way but Thank You.

From then on the story is uneventful. We made it to the airport, turned in the car, and told them about the spare tire. After a short flight home we were picked up in San Jose by Sylvia's parents...they were still looking for their car.