A Trip Down Memory Lane: The New Mexico Spare Tire Incident

The boys and I were listening to the radio in the car, and the hosts of a radio show were talking about how many times God has probably saved them from going through some kind of an ordeal, and they don't even realize it because it never happened.  I'm sure this is true, and I often think about things like that when I'm unexpectedly delayed at a light that will never turn green or because Clayton decides he needs to potty just as I've strapped him into the carseat.  Maybe God is preventing some kind of an accident, or maybe I'm just late.  I don't know.

One thing that definitely came to mind while I was listening was an event Ryan and I like to refer to as the "New Mexico Spare Tire Incident". 

We recently bought a minivan.  I know, I haven't confessed it on the blog until now because I'm still in denial that I actually drive a minivan, but hey, three carseats were not going to fit across the back of the Highlander, so it was necessary.  A couple weeks ago I noticed a slight squeaking noise in the rear and assumed it was the tailgate squeaking as I drove over our pot hole plentiful roads.  Last week I happened to get in the back of the van for a minute while Ryan was driving, and I realized the noise was actually coming from the compartment that holds the spare.  Yeah!  That's easy to fix.  As Ryan later tightened the bolt on the spare, we were reminded of THE incident.

When we'd lived in southern NM for almost a year, Ryan finally got a slot for his Air Force tech school in Dayton, Ohio.  A few weeks before he was to leave, he was starting to make sure his Saturn was in shape for the drive to Ohio.  He decided to check on the spare tire.  When he tried to loosen the bolt to get the tire out of the trunk, it wouldn't budge.  He tried everything.  We lived on base in a VERY tight knit (aka nosy, but mostly in a good way, right Jenny?) community.  After struggling for a while, a small crowd had assembled to try to help.  It was finally decided that something plastic had melted in there, and the only thing to do was to cut the bolt to release the tire.  Someone did this, and the tire was finally released.  Wow.  That's not something you'd want to be dealing with on the side of the interstate.

Ryan left for his school, and a couple months later was making the trip back home to New Mexico.  He arrived in Tucumcari, NM late in the evening.  It was four hours from home, and rather than spend another night on the road, he decided he would drive into Alamogordo that night.  He called me from our one cell phone at about 8pm.  I knew to expect him around midnight.  I was excited he'd be home and waited up.  The drive was on a two lane winding highway, making its way through such bustling metro areas as Carrizozo and Corona.  There was no cell service out there.  Period.  No 9-1-1, nothing.

Well midnight came and went.  That's okay.  Then 1am.  Hmm.  The cell phone kept going straight to voicemail, which I expected because there is no service out there.  Then 1:30am.  There's nowhere to stop, so it's not like he stopped for food or gas, not like that takes an hour and a half anyway.  I was really starting to get worried.  Not only is it the world's lonliest road, those roads are known for drug smuggling and illegal immigrants, not to mention mountain lions, snakes, and that kind of stuff.  I was really getting upset.  I decided that if he wasn't home at 2am, I would first call a friend who often worked with civilian law enforcement, to see if he'd heard anything, and then I would set out to look for Ryan.

Just before 2am, the phone rang.  It was Ryan at a pay phone in Tularosa, about thirty minutes from home.  I was so relieved.  He said it was a long story, but he was fine and would be home soon.

I was so thankful when he finally arrived.  To this day, I don't think I've ever been more scared in my entire life.  Apparently about 10 miles outside of Tularosa Ryan got a flat tire.  It was pitch black out there, and there was no real great place to pull over.  He finally found a little flat ground and got out.  Before he could begin, he had to unpack two months worth of stuff from the trunk so he could get to the spare.  Then he had to locate a flashlight, and on and on.  It took a long time in the dark.  Then he had to repack everything.  He knew I'd be really worried, so he'd been able to locate a pay phone in Tularosa.

So, if you're still with me, Ryan and I have often thought about how lucky we were that night.  If Ryan had not checked on that spare tire before he left, he'd never have been able to loosen the bolt out there.  He'd eventually have had to take off on foot, ten miles to the nearest town.  I'd have been absolutely insane driving along that highway looking for him. 

The moral of this story is 1) I know God protected us from something much worse than a plain old flat tire that night and 2) if you haven't checked on your spare tire in a while, you might want to do that!