Normally, a flat tire would have prompted an immediate phone call to BCAA. But on this particular day, I found myself, along with my road-trip-partner-in-crime Ian, halfway up a mountain in an unknown location somewhere on the Oregon coast. It seems we had been spending our time looking out the windows at the scenery rather than looking at the map and the road signs.
After much lugging of the nuts, and tomfoolery while removing the spare tire from the trunk, we had the spare tire on the wheel and were on our way, which is where the real fun began.
Enroute I questioned my partner-in-crime on situation as follows:
ME: “Did you tighten the lug nuts as hard as you could?”
HIM: “Umm, no… I didn’t want them to be too hard to get off.”
ME: “Well did you wiggle the tire to make sure it was flush?”
HIM: “Umm, no… But if you feel the lug nuts fall off the tire, you should definitely pull over.”
ME: “Umm… Okay. I suppose we would have to lose at least two lug nuts before it became dangerous. Right?”
Fortuitously, there was a repair shop only a few miles ahead.
Upon arrival, I explained our situation to the older repairman, accidentally tagging on an “Eh” to the end of my sentence. And in response the repairman immediately replied in a solid mid-western accent “Are you from Caanaadaa? You’re just being fancy saying the word ‘Eh’ aren’t yah!”
The older repairman also noted that the younger repairman had driven 800 miles the previous day, resulting in a “nasty case butt-rash.” Good to know.
To this my traveling companion noted that the repair truck was likely also making them both sterile. Not sure why he felt the compulsion to bring up virility during our small town small talk, but they laughed it off, and we managed to get the tire repaired in no time. For a whopping fee of $5.
Now we needed to get the big tire back on the car, and the little spare off and back into the trunk.**NB: Removal of the tire from the trunk involved no fewer than five adults, one teenager, beer for two, a leatherman tool kit, and considerable cussing.
Ian worked on the lug nuts, while I set about jacking up the car. He finished a little earlier then me and 
watched while I finished-up the jacking. No problem for me, but this caught the eye of the older mechanic who pointed out that I was doing all the work.
Specifically, he commented: “You men sure have it good up there in Caanaadaa. She does all the work, and you get to sit around and drink the beer.”
So we took him up on it, and drank a cold beer from the cooler. Delicious.
