Still Climbing

Dear Reader, I'm here to let you know that I extricated myself from the fix that you found me in a few days back.

Or, was it a few weeks back?! (Greased Lightening!--that's how my dear old dad used to describe TIME, when he had reached an advanced age, such as mine]).

So, after sniffing the scent of burnt rubber, and pulling off the road, I had called the young man to whom I was scheduled to show an apartment, and I had explained the fact that I was stranded with a flat tire.  When he heard my predicament, this young man had offered,
"You're just a half-mile away? I'll come put your spare tire on for you!"

"Well, uh..."  I stammered.  This was a first!  I knew I could call AAA*.  But...there was that dinner date...and, and...

"Okay!" I said.  "If you're sure you want to."

Soon the would-be tenant showed up, along with his sister (who is already a tenant of mine). This bodes well, I thought.  Perhaps things will move quickly!  (Reader Dear, I didn't expect it to go like greased lightening, but, you know...).

It was coming-home-from-school time, traffic of all kinds was streaming by (there were Amish school children, who, I might point out, likely will never need to deal with burnt rubber tires!)


Well, then...argh...the would-be tenant couldn't get the spare tire out of the rear of the car, couldn't unbolt the plastic "tray" that held the tools and covered the tire.  After he'd worked on it for a while, I thought about calling the guy who deals with all the plumbing problems for me at the apartments.  He's a long-time friend and lives just a quarter-mile away from the spot I now found myself in.

I called Ron, the plumber guy.  He joined the crew.
Turns out, nobody knew what to do!

As I made a call to AAA, the two guys (Ron and the would-be tenant) at the back of my car decided to beat the plastic tray into bits.

It was loud!  I had a hard time hearing the AAA dispatcher.  "Call me before you send someone," I shouted.  "I might get lucky with my good Samaritans!"   Sure enough, Reader Dear, just as the dispatcher called me back and was telling me who it was that was coming to my assistance, the two who had been beating away at the problem triumphantly removed the tire and set to installing it.

****
I'm going to jump forward in time, Dear Reader.  Since it's moving at such a clip, anyway, why try to catch up with every little trivial detail?

I gave a very speedy showing of the apartment.  I called that Husband-of Mine and we met at the spot where his route to the restaurant and my route home intersected.  I leaped into his car, and off we went.  The roads were clogged with rush-hour traffic!

As you may have guessed, Dear Reader, we were late for the dinner date.
ONE MINUTE late!**
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*American Automobile Association (to which one can subscribe for "roadside assistance"

**"You can't afford another speeding ticket!" I loudly cautioned the HM. "You're liable to lose your license! It's not worth it! Slow down!"***

**********

***While it might have added an interesting twist to the plot, I'm here to thankfully tell you, Dear One, that though the HM did not heed my advice, neither did he get caught for speeding!  We enjoyed a delightful dinner with friends, and arrived home feeling fine, and with the HM's driving license intact. So, hurrah for "All's well that ends well"

Keep your fingers crossed, however (if you so kindly would, Reader Dear)  as to,  "Be sure your sins will find you out!"