In a few short hours, it will be fall break. Or, as I like to think of it, the official kick-off of my Birthday Season.
Unlike many, I enjoy celebrating a birthday. A friend of mine once told me about a friend of his who celebrated, not just a birthday, but an entire "Birthday Season."
This meant that, at any time during the 4-6 weeks up to and after his birthday, he could celebrate-- on the pretext that it was his birthday. It was the notion of a "Holiday Season" taken to its logical conclusion.
Needless to say, I loved this idea. So, Birthday Season, here I come.
The Season can't arrive a minute too soon, because this week has offered very little to celebrate (except the fact that I got the first batch of papers graded).
On Tuesday night, I was barreling down the highway at a... brisk rate of speed... and I hit some kind of thing in the road. It was outta nowhere, and there was just no avoiding it.
Long story short, it blew the tire on the driver's side.
So there I was, facing my nightmare: alone and stuck on the side of the interstate at 10:30 p.m.
But it turned out okay: got a cop, then a tow truck to move the car somewhere the tire could be safely changed (no, I didn't do it myself--if I'm already paying for the tow, why would I?), had a nice new spare, all was quickly good again.
Except that we needed to put air in the tire. But even this seemed like it would work out well, because a gas station with an air pump was only about 500 feet away.
Except that the pump didn't work.
Still, no problem, the tow-guy knew another place only about a mile or so away, and the tire was okay to drive on that distance. Off we went.
That pump didn't work.
At this point, the only option was to put the car back on the flatbed and find a place with a reliable air pump. To do this, we had to drive south for a bit.
Did I mention I was traveling north? Yeah, I was. So, we back-tracked.
As I pointed out to the tow-guy, this meant that I was going to get the chance to go back over the spot where I hit the piece of crap that totaled my tire. Maybe I could hit it again.
I also pointed out, during a brief lull in the conversation, "I can't believe we're driving around looking for air right now."
He was good natured and good-humored, and I must say, I never expected to be quite so happy at the sight of a fully functioning air pump in my life. That Shell gas station had a slightly heavenly aura around it, if I do say so myself. But by that time, I was getting pretty tired, so I may have been hallucinating.
But as Shakespeare and I always say, "All's well that ends well." I got in at 1:00 a.m., about 2 hours after my previous ETA, but I made it.
And in a few short hours, I will have really made it. Let the celebration begin.