When the hotel’s valet pulled my car around Friday morning, he said “I think your tire might be flat.” The word “might” was a pretty big understatement. The rear passenger tire was as flat as a tire could be. The kids, who are traveling in their own car, continued on without us… nothing they could do, after all. We told them we would get the tire patched and meet back up with them in Florida.
The valet, along with the hotel’s maintenance man, arrived with a portable air compressor. As quickly as they pumped air into the tire, it began leaking out. That’s when the maintenance man pointed out the big slice in the side of my tire. “That tire ain’t just flat,” he said, running his finger along the cut in the side of my tire. “Someone slashed your tire.” The tire was just fine the night before when we handed our keys over to the valet.
The Residence Inn in Memphis, Tennessee does not have self-parking. When you arrive, a valet takes your car and parks it down the street in a public lot. The card the valet hands you says “not responsible for accidents or loss of property.” The parking lot has a sign that says “park at your own risk.” Everybody felt real bad that we were stranded in Memphis with a flat tire. Then they shrugged, said “good luck,” and went about their business.
Around 8am Susan called AAA, who said they would send a tow truck over. When the truck arrived, the driver got out, took one look at my car, and said “I can’t tow that.” It was a conventional tow truck, he could only tow my car from the front, my car is front wheel drive, and the flat was in the rear. “You need a flatbed truck,” he said. So, we went back inside and waited some more. Then AAA cancelled our call, saying it was complete. Susan called AAA back, got things straightened out, and the dispatched a flat bed truck — one which we assumed would also give us a ride to the Goodyear tire shop, approximately three miles away.
During this time, Susan called the Goodyear shop to see if they had a tire that would fit my car. They didn’t, but said they could get one by 1pm. Around 11am the tow truck arrived, and they loaded up my car.
“How you going to get to the tire shop?” the man asked. “With you?” we said, hopefully. “Sorry, only room for me and my partner in the truck,” he said. “We can get an Uber,” Susan suggested. The men shrugged and left with my car.
Susan pulled up Uber to get us a ride to the tire shop. The app said someone would be there in 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, they cancelled the ride. What the? When she tried again, Uber said no drivers were available in our area. In Memphis, Tennessee — population 650k.
While Susan continued to fiddle with the app, I watched a man pull his Mercedes into the parking spot just ahead of where my car had been. He hopped out and ran inside a fancy coffee shop next to our hotel. It was then I came up with a plan. No, it didn’t involve grand theft auto. When the man came out with his drink I approached him. “I will give you $20 to take my wife and I three miles.” The man looked at me like I was crazy. At that moment, I was crazy. But I also needed a ride. I explained our situation and the guy took mercy on us, shuffling stuff around in his car to make room for the two of us.
The man turned out to be a principal of a local charter school, was on his way to a meeting at the school, and the tire shop was on his way. He was a nice guy who gave a ride to two people who, if the shoe was on the other food, would have done the same for him. If he ever finds his way west on I-40, I’d love to repay his generosity.
When we arrived to Goodyear, we checked in and received even more good news. Yes, the tire would arrive between 1pm and 2om, but they were so busy that they wouldn’t be able to fix the tire until tomorrow. When the guy behind the counter asked where he could reach us, I told him the lobby. “Literally, we have nowhere to go. I’ll be sleeping in that chair tonight.” The bigger issue was that our kids, who were now halfway to Florida, couldn’t check into the resort without us. This meant not only would we be paying for a night in an expensive beach that would be empty, but we would be paying for two additional hotel rooms — one in Florida for the kids, and another in Memphis.
Fortunately, the people working at Goodyear can be bribed. Once the guys up front had twenties in their hands, we moved up in the queue pretty quickly. Don’t hate the player, hate the game.
With nothing to do but wait, we walked down to the nearest Mexican restaurant and drank margaritas. Once we had both physically and mentally cooled off, it was back to the tire shop. The tire arrived sometime after two, and we were back on the road just after 3pm — with a little over 8 hours of driving ahead of us. We arrived at the beach house close to 1am — tired, but relieved.
