What is he waving about? Again? The supped-up Honda Accord signaled Nicole and I to roll our window down on the freeway. “Your tire is super flat! ‘Bout to pop!”

Shit.The LA 405 freeway was not where I wanted to blow a tire. Nicole expertly navigated us to a gas station. We got out and the tire was toast. Nicole called AAA. The wait was two hours. I felt nervous.   
Nicole asked me, “Have you ever changed a tire?”
I responded, “I know how, but I only changed a tire once. In high school. And my dad did most of it.” This was not a time for false pretenses.

She tells me she has not changed a tire for a long time as well.
 
Wow, this was my moment, as a man, to provide. A tire change opportunity had presented itself.

Was I ready?
 
Without hesitation, Nicole facetimed her dad for help. Ah, Nice.
 
Honestly, I would have called George too. George’s ideal Saturday activity is repairing boats, cars and motorcycles that barely function and flipping them on Craigslist. And George flips these vehicles for the fun of repairing them, not because he wants to negotiate. He negotiates multi million-dollar insurance settlements for work. Negotiating the last $50 with a dad who wants a family lake boat would be like a collegiate wrestler baiting the high school bully into picking a fight with him.
 
Anyway, George has tire changing experience.
 
George tells Nicole through FaceTime to grab the jack. Way ahead of you big guy!! I already had the carjack in hand because I knew what a jack was, and I knew we needed it. LFG.  

I sat on the ground to survey the tire. I was wearing a pastel purple tie dye shirt. My long quarantine blonde hair was floating in the wind. I was spinning the crank of the jack left and right, trying to understand which direction elongated the jack. Must be right, right? Is it left?

Way to be Chris.

Nicole was wearing a white crop top and wedges and pointing her phone camera at the tire, talking to her dad. I felt the eyes of the gas station upon us. The signs on our backs screamed “HELP US – WE ARE YUPPIES – WHAT IS GREASE??”.

A man checking his car oil walked over to help us. We were struggling to find where we secure the jack to the car. Gas Station Man told us for this car, instead of putting the jack under the car, we needed to insert the jack in a flap next to the wheel. I attempted to open the flap with my hands, but was struggling. Thankfully, Gas Station Man brought us a flat head screwdriver. Do real men just have toolboxes in their pockets??
 
I grab the wrench and loosened the lug nuts. I called them screws in front of George. Unfortunate.  

Using the wrench made me feel like a badass. My muscles were flexing under my purple pastel shirt as I pressed the wrench down. Grease dirtied my hands. Did this just turn into erotica?

We aligned the new tire and I tightened the lug nuts in a star pattern. (Credit, George.) Nicole loosened jack and let the car sink to the ground. The car did not explode.
 
We thanked George for his help and thanked Gas Station Man for his kindness. Another gas station patron came over and told Nicole and I a story about how he got stuck in the forest with a flat tire. He went on for about 10 minutes.
 
I guess everybody has a good flat tire story.