The day after we got the pool up and running, we spent the night at a friend's cottage. They warned me ahead of time that it is 13km in a dirt road. Not a big deal. We drove more than that on the dirt road through Pocalogan, NB when the highway was closed (after leaving Boston 6 hours earlier, but that's a whole other story).
The road was much bumpier than the Pocologan Road, but we made it in unscathed. Had a great time with fireworks, tatooes and maybe a few beverages. We left early the next day so Tom could arrive home in time to intro some bands at the big Canada Day concert on Citadel Hill.
We made it through the dirt road, but not without hitting a few craters along the way. We were just past Middle Musquodoboit when we heard it. A funny noise coming from outside the van. We slowed down, it went away. We sped up, it came back. I calmly asked Tom to pull over so we can check it out. I looked at my side and everthing looked fine. Then, I heard "Holy Crap!" (only that's not the word he used) from the other side. The tire was actually off the rim!
No problem, we took out a CAA membership last year and now I get to use it. Except that Rogers doesn't seem to have any towers near Middle Musquidoboit. So, Tom changed the tire himself. He even knew to loosen the lug nuts before jacking the wheel up. This was going to be a breeze. He got the rim and what was left of the tire out of the way. He went around back to find the spare tire. He looked inside first, but I pointed out that it is tucked up underneath the rear. He got underneath and tried to release the tire. That's when the real fun began.
The tire was stuck. There was no way it was coming off. A few minutes later, we got some help. He went home and came back with tools: a hammer and vicegrips. Tom and our good samaritan took turns hammering on the tire and the brackets around it. It wasn't going to budge.
I needed to feel useful so I set out with the girsl to find a telephone. We decided to go to the house with the radio loud enough that we could hear it a 1/4 mile away since they would probably be home. I phoned CAA and soon learned it would be close to an hour before they would arrive. In the meantime, the man who lived there went down to help. At this point, there are three grown men taking turns beating on this tire with a hammer, vicegrips and who knows what else.
Then, one of them got an idea. He has a friend who sells tires. So, he and Tom took off in his truck into the middle of nowhere to find a tire. They returned with an old tire full of air and attached to our the rim. So much for the spare, this is better anyway.
They had just tightened the last lugnut when the CAA truck arrived. That's when we all learned there is a bolt accessible from inside the van (remember, I directed Tom away from that area?) that would release the spare tire.
We got home in time for Tom to have a quick shower, drive quickly into Halifax and jump up on stage just before Nickelback was due to arrive.
