About four weeks ago, on my way to work on a cold cloudy Monday morning, I was flying along in the far-left lane and started to hear that dreaded sound, the horrible flapping and rumbling that means "flat tire". Turned off the radio and listened more closely, doing the stupid "maybe it's some other car" thing for a few long seconds, then pulled off the highway onto the narrow, narrow shoulder as reality said, face facts, dumbass.
I called AAA and then waited. I was feeling chilled and queasy as car after car flew by just inches to my right, rocking my vehicle like a tiny boat on a stormy sea. Time passed slowly and unbeautifully.
Finally, the AAA truck arrived. I popped my trunk and got my spare out as the gritty wind blew in my face. The truck driver was a young guy with "Rico" stitched above his shirt pocket, and he had a brilliant smile, as if he was perpetually thinking, "What a great job I have! And what a beautiful day!"
He took care of the tire stuff rapidly - time was now speeding back up to something like normal - then shook my hand and returned to his truck to block traffic and let me ease back onto the highway.
I started to accelerate, and found myself smiling. What had been a grim day just minutes before was suddenly pretty pleasant. And I realized, holy shit, Rico did this.
Then a week or two later, I was brushing my teeth before bed and suddenly felt one of my upper front teeth, a crown, pull loose from my jaw. Oh jesus no. Tried to shove it back into place like nothing had happened. Which worked just about exactly as well as ignoring the flat tire.
Feeling sick - again - I put the crown in a little box on my dressser, and the next day called my dentist - who I had not seen for a while, as you may have guessed. Dr. Cavalli's receptionist arranged for me to come in the following morning for an emergency visit.
I drove to his office feeling shame and dread. But all Dr. Cavalli said when he saw me, was, "Mr. McKenna! Good to see you! Let's see what we can do here." And he smiled warmly and got to work, murmuring a commentary as he went along, all the world sounding like what Bob Ross would have sounded like if he had been a dentist rather than a painter: "This should set beautifully....let's just tease the exccess cement off...ah. Very good."
Less than an hour later, temporarily cemented crown in place, I drove off to work, and again, the day was suddenly brighter and happier. And I realized, holy shit, it happened again.
Here's to all the miracle workers. Maybe you're one of them. Or maybe you could be.
I called AAA and then waited. I was feeling chilled and queasy as car after car flew by just inches to my right, rocking my vehicle like a tiny boat on a stormy sea. Time passed slowly and unbeautifully.
Finally, the AAA truck arrived. I popped my trunk and got my spare out as the gritty wind blew in my face. The truck driver was a young guy with "Rico" stitched above his shirt pocket, and he had a brilliant smile, as if he was perpetually thinking, "What a great job I have! And what a beautiful day!"
He took care of the tire stuff rapidly - time was now speeding back up to something like normal - then shook my hand and returned to his truck to block traffic and let me ease back onto the highway.
I started to accelerate, and found myself smiling. What had been a grim day just minutes before was suddenly pretty pleasant. And I realized, holy shit, Rico did this.
Then a week or two later, I was brushing my teeth before bed and suddenly felt one of my upper front teeth, a crown, pull loose from my jaw. Oh jesus no. Tried to shove it back into place like nothing had happened. Which worked just about exactly as well as ignoring the flat tire.
Feeling sick - again - I put the crown in a little box on my dressser, and the next day called my dentist - who I had not seen for a while, as you may have guessed. Dr. Cavalli's receptionist arranged for me to come in the following morning for an emergency visit.
I drove to his office feeling shame and dread. But all Dr. Cavalli said when he saw me, was, "Mr. McKenna! Good to see you! Let's see what we can do here." And he smiled warmly and got to work, murmuring a commentary as he went along, all the world sounding like what Bob Ross would have sounded like if he had been a dentist rather than a painter: "This should set beautifully....let's just tease the exccess cement off...ah. Very good."
Less than an hour later, temporarily cemented crown in place, I drove off to work, and again, the day was suddenly brighter and happier. And I realized, holy shit, it happened again.
Here's to all the miracle workers. Maybe you're one of them. Or maybe you could be.
