We're golden

 

We took a drive to Coronado National Memorial straight south of us on the southern border.  We drove up a steep rocky road to Montezuma Pass.

 

We hiked to the top of Coronado Peak.

 

 

 

And looked out across Mexico.

 

We drove back down that steep rocky road in first gear.  Funny thing, but on the way up I thought to myself that I should look at the jack and spare tire to make sure I knew how to get at them and use them.  We’d be better off repairing our own flat in the back-country than trying to get a repair truck in to help, if there is even cell coverage to call for help.  And these newfangled jacks; they can be a puzzle to use.  Better to figure all this out and confirm that everything works when it’s not an emergency.

 

On the highway home, we got a warning on the dashboard that our left rear tire was low.  As I pulled to the side of the road, I watched that tire lose about five pounds per second until it was empty.  That was a serious leak.

 

We opened the rear liftgate to locate the spare.  We couldn’t.  I looked from underneath.  Nothing.  We looked in the owner’s manual.  Couldn’t find it.  Judy googled You Tube and found a video explaining how to find the spare tire in a Chrysler Town and Country.  It’s supposed to be in a well directly underneath the center console between the front seats.  We found the nut to turn to lower it.  I looked from underneath and saw exactly where the spare tire would be if Chrysler had included one.  It turns out they save the weight and provide a sweet little tire inflation kit instead.

 

We found the rear compartment with the tire inflation kit.  It’s a portable 12 volt air compressor with two separate hoses.  Connect the first hose to the afflicted tire, turn the switch to the leak stopper fluid, and pump it in and inflate the tire.  Once it gets to 20 pounds, switch to the air hose and continue filling the tire until it gets to 30 pounds.  Sounds simple.

 

Meanwhile, a guy in a pickup truck stopped to see if we needed any help.  We worked our way through the ritual together.  It was good to have someone else there to help, and to watch the leak stopper fluid blow out through the giant hole in the tread.  It was time to call for a truck.  Sunday afternoon, holiday weekend, no spare tire to change, we would have to get a flatbed to deliver our car to a tire repair shop, but that wouldn’t put us anywhere near the motorhome and Henry, who had to really have to pee by this time.

 

Our Good Samaritan lamented that he didn’t have his plug kit with him.  Plug kit?  Yeah, he does a lot of four-wheeling, and gets a lot of flats, so he always has a plug kit along.  He pointed out over the plains and explained that’s the direction he lived.  If we wanted to wait for him, he’d go home, get his kit, and come back and plug the tire and we’d be fine.

 

And that’s exactly what happened.  How’s that for luck?  Not only did we get a guy who stopped to help, we got a guy who knew what to do with tires and had the right tools.  How could we possibly reward that?  I tried as best I could to slip some money into his hand, but he wouldn’t hear of it.  He muttered something about karma and was on his way.  The unidentified, immensely appreciated, Good Samaritan.

 

We had sixteen miles to go to get back home and let Henry out.  The tire didn’t lose a single pound on the way.

 

It’s our golden fiftieth anniversary tour.  We had a wonderful scenic exciting day; full of new adventures; and even the flat tire episode turned out so well it was an unexpected pleasure.  Yeah.  We’re golden.