I can’t change a tire. This much is true. I’ve seen it done several times before, but it’s apparently not one of those things that can be attempted without an actual lesson in it. On our honeymoon in Ireland, on a Sunday, there was a bit of a pothole, and we lost our wheel trim, and we had to get a new tire put on. But everything was closed, it being Sunday, and we somehow got the car to a gas station where a kindly gentleman put on our spare. We thanked him profusely, but it didn’t end there for me.
As a man I guess there are many things I’m expected to know. When I was younger I didn’t really think it mattered. Other people were around who could do those things, people who were bigger, and stronger, and who had experience. Now I’m that man, the one expected to be bigger, and to be stronger, and to have that experience. But I still can’t change a tire, and it’s not because I can’t look up a tutorial youTube video. Any idiot can look that up. It’s because to me it doesn’t matter.
Don’t get me wrong. I know if the time comes I will have access to that information. I just don’t want it clouding my mind if I don’t need it at this exact moment. Or maybe that’s just the excuse I tell myself so I can stay ignorant of what should be the most basic of tasks. Maybe I don’t want to be that man, the one who is bigger, and stronger. Maybe I just want to be me, this version of me that doesn’t know, that doesn’t need to know. Perhaps I put stock in the idea that there are different kinds of men from those warriors who are always physical.
So I drive from point A to point B, and back again, trying my best to avoid the potholes that life throws in my way instead of just learning the timeless art of changing a tire. Maybe it’s about time I checked out that youTube video and realized what I’ve probably known all along. Just because I’ll finally know how to change a tire doesn’t mean I’m any less sensitive. It simply means I can add one more thing to my repertoire. And that’s not such a bad thing anymore.