This morning I was blessed to notice that our van tire was getting flat. I say blessed because I am so thankful that I didn't have to change the tire in the snow! After I filled the tire up with air, I took the vehicle to Rural King, since they have the best tire center in the area.
I wondered around the tire and battery area for the better part of half an hour, and spent some time on the only place to sit in the entire store. There's a gliding, park bench with a broken slat that seems strangely appropriate for the store. I wonder how many people have sat in that seat and either worried about the impending news regarding their tires or possibly how much the park bench hurt their rear end.
That must be the most unimaginative place in the entire city. The shelves are stocked with the hard reality of tire repair kits, batteries, something called Purple Power and of course dozens of tires.
But as I wandered about, I begin to think of a story called "Tire Girl". You'll have to check back in to my site (mydadsbedtimestories.com) to listen, since I haven't completed it yet.
Does it seem odd that on that cold, hard, concrete floor, surrounded by all of the dull reality, (I mean the pain of buying, repairing, or replacing boring tires) that there is a story somewhere in the middle of the that?
I doubt that any of the tire repair guys or girl (yes, there is a tire girl in that store), came into work at 7 am this morning with excitement or looking for the story that would brighten their day. But somewhere, sometime soon there will be children listening to me tell a story about a tire girl. And hopefully it will make them smile, and give them a peaceful end to their day as they drift off to sleep.
Scott
I wondered around the tire and battery area for the better part of half an hour, and spent some time on the only place to sit in the entire store. There's a gliding, park bench with a broken slat that seems strangely appropriate for the store. I wonder how many people have sat in that seat and either worried about the impending news regarding their tires or possibly how much the park bench hurt their rear end.
That must be the most unimaginative place in the entire city. The shelves are stocked with the hard reality of tire repair kits, batteries, something called Purple Power and of course dozens of tires.
But as I wandered about, I begin to think of a story called "Tire Girl". You'll have to check back in to my site (mydadsbedtimestories.com) to listen, since I haven't completed it yet.
Does it seem odd that on that cold, hard, concrete floor, surrounded by all of the dull reality, (I mean the pain of buying, repairing, or replacing boring tires) that there is a story somewhere in the middle of the that?
I doubt that any of the tire repair guys or girl (yes, there is a tire girl in that store), came into work at 7 am this morning with excitement or looking for the story that would brighten their day. But somewhere, sometime soon there will be children listening to me tell a story about a tire girl. And hopefully it will make them smile, and give them a peaceful end to their day as they drift off to sleep.
Scott
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