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Who You Gonna Call?

A few days back, I had driven home early in the afternoon, because I had wanted to take a nap before heading out back to work for a meeting I needed to attend in person that evening.

I got to my neighborhood in good time, but suddenly heard a *flapflapflap* coming from the right rear tire, and I thought, “uh oh, had I had run over something?”

I pulled over next to a pandesal (local salt bread) store to check out the flapping thing.

Turns out I had not run over anything, which was good, but I had a flat tire, which was bad.

Bad because 1.) it was super flat, as in deflated, which was why the sound it emitted was a flapping noise, not a thumping one, and 2.) I did not have any tools with me.  (Even if I did, this was the one task my alpha male instincts has refused to learn to do.)

And so, I did what any person in her right mind would do.

I bought pandesal and ate them in the car.

After which I just sat there to think.  What should I do?  Do I risk it and drive back out to look for a tire shop?  Should I call someone? But who? Should I just sit here until a roving guard comes by?  Should I buy more pandesal for later (because it was really good)?

I decided to call the most competent person for the job.

I called my carpenter.

Now Benjie is not just any ordinary carpenter.  He is a jack-of-all-trades (master of none?) and can fix electrical wirings, install flashings, unclog plumbing, and I knew that somewhere that very minute, he was out there selling lanzones for a former boss.  I figured he could easily figure out how to change a tire, right? I just hoped that he was somewhere nearby.

 

Luckily for me, he was nearby, and he was on site within a few minutes.  He later figured that I had no tools whatsoever so he again sped off to I-don’t-know-where.

So I waited. And waited.  I wondered what he’d do and where he had ended up.

Some time later, a big truck pulled up and out jumped Benjie, and I swore the sky opened up and poured sunlight and rainbows on my car with matching “tadaaaaahhhh”.  He had borrowed tools from the hardware we buy our building materials from and hitched a ride with them en route to a delivery.  Haha. Problem solved!

Moral of this story:  It doesn’t matter how hopeless you think the situation is, and how alone you think you might be (no hugot here. LOL), there is always someone to help you and some way that you are going to be able to get out of it.  You just need to have your wits and presence of mind, and have people you’ve established trust and good working relations with.

And, of course, good pandesal doesn’t hurt.

By supernormalgirl

Single, 40-ish mom, travelling this world as any normal, girl-next-door would. Is both positive and negative, yin and yang, good and bad. A forever 'tween. Has a love-hate relationship with food, and food wins most of the time. From Manila, Philippines.

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