RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPiTER

I am defeated

This morning I’m riding my bike to work and when I pass by my car and see that the driver’s side front tire is flat.

“Shit.” I think to myself.

The car is parked in an alley street, so after work I head on over and decide to put on the donut and take it down to the auto shop about a mile from my house. I loosen the lug nuts, jack up the car and put on the spare. I lower the car and notice that the spare is just about as flat as the other tire. But it’s on and I only have to go a mile. I’ll drive slowly… I think. About 100 feet later, the tire is off the rim and I’m driving on metal. I pull over immediately, now on 10th street in a very precarious spot.

“Shit” I think to myself.

Next I go inside and grab my bicycle pump. I’ll put some air in the flat tire and put it back on the car. Hopefully it’s a slow leak and I can make it to the auto-shop. I pull the car a third of a block up to a small, private parking lot and steal someone’s space so that I don’t get killed trying to change a tire in a center city street. I get everything back out, but realize that the car is on a slant.

I go looking for a rock to stick behind the back tire, so the car, when jacked up won’t fall on and kill me. I find a perfect piece of concrete and just for good measure, go looking for a piece for the other tire. Instead I find a homeless man drinking steel reserve in the back of the parking lot.

He becomes my companion as I re-change the tire. I learn all about his life. To tell you the truth, he’s was absolutely fascinating character. 42 years old, grew up in Roxborough, still torn up over a girl he dated down in Florida who left him so that she could whore herself without hearing his shit about it. Mentally ill ex-junky, HIV positive, a man who freely uses the word ‘nigger’ loudly and without hesitation in the course of a public conversation.

He seemed harmless, but I did not leave my tools in his reach. If I had a free hand, I kept the lug nut wrench in it, just in case he tried to rob me and I had to beat his head in. He talked at me for 20 minutes, completely self aware of his situation, but completely resigned to continue on with it.

I had no success putting air in the tire and decided to drive at 3mph to the repair shop. I lowered the car and parted ways with my vagrant friend. I gave him $2 to do with whatever he saw fit, declined to give him a ride to South street and headed towards Monroe at Broad and Washington. I thought they closed at 7PM

I pulled into Monroe at 6:50 and the place was apparently closed. I parked in the lot, plastered notes all over the car advertising my situation and my imminent return and asking not be towed. I got my bike out of the back of the car, reattached the wheel, gathered my things, zipped up my hoodie and got on my bike to head home. First though, I decided to check the hours on the window. When I got to the entrance, I saw a sign.

To better serve our customers, we’ve moved to 2300 Oregon Ave.

“Shit” I thought.

I got out the pump again and this time, for some reason it worked. I put 20 lbs of pressure in the tire and headed over to the gas station at Broad and Christian. Meanwhile several situations were fast developing as cop cars were racing all over the place, pulling people over and calling in the helicopters. Bad night all around.

At the gas station, I filled up the tire and headed down to Washington Ave. At 10th I found a gas station with a repair service. That’s where the car is now. The gas station was open, but the repair shop is closed until the morning. Tomorrow at 8AM, I go back and see what the situation is.

I rode home to the sound of helicopters and police sirens.