As my husband was trying to leave for school this morning, he discovered that he had a flat tire. All the way flat. So, of course, as anyone who found their tire flat on a Monday morning would, he stormed in the house angrily, and borrowed my car.
Luckily I am on spring break, so although this leaves me stranded, it didn't affect his day too much.
It reminded me of when I was just learning to drive and my dad did everything he could to help keep me prepared.
When I was finally of the age to get my license, I wasn't allowed to actually get it until I had a job that would afford me an insurance payment. So I got a job, and I got my license.
Then when it was time to get a car of my own, he helped me find my '94 Nissan Altima that would get me through more years than it probably should have.
But what I remember most is when he made me prove I could change a tire before he would let me drive it.
He showed me that I could stand on the tire iron to help me loosen the lug nuts because he made sure to get me a T shaped one.
He showed me where the jack was hidden inside the panel of the trunk, where to line it up so I didn't dent the wheel well, and how to hook the hand crank to the jack so that I could lift the car up.
He showed me how independent I could be, with just a little guidance, and he showed me how much he loved me and wanted me to be safe.
Years later, when at this point the trusty old Altima belonged to my younger sister, and she got a flat, she called my dad to come help her.
I assured him that I could assist her, and ran a block over where she was waiting.
He showed me how to be safe and independent, and I imagine that he felt as proud of me as I did of my sister when I got to show her all the same things.