Yesterday was the day I learned how to change a tire on the Marnmobile.

Sadly, I did not learn this vital piece of information until approximately six hours after the flat occurred. In a foreign country. In a foreign country where I could not find a local garage open. Oh, and the icing on the cake? The spousal unit was working in a place without a telephone.

Yep, I walked out of my gym after 2 1/2 hours of strenuous workout to see that my car wasn't going anywhere. I rummaged around in the trunk and found the puny spare tire but couldn't find the jack or tools. Oh happy day. So I walked back into my almost empty gym and asked about garages. My trainer said there was one just south of the small village where my gym is. A guy who was leaving the gym offered me a ride to it.

He dropped me off, I went to the door and it was locked. There was a sign in the window that it was going out of business. Fine. I began the three mile walk back to the gym. A car pulled over. It was our friend, Terry who, although she was getting ready to head off on a trip the next day, immediately set her plans aside and drove me back to the gym.

We looked at my car. She found the jack but neither of us could figure out how to get it out of the side panel of my car. We could not find the tire tools. Fine. She said she'd drive me back into Canada and we'd look for the spousal unit who was working in a new subdivision. We drove all throughout it, and couldn't find him.

Fine.

She must have spent a least an hour helping me before she went well out of her way to drive me home. Bless her. We are so very lucky to have the friends we have.

Suppertime the spousal unit motored in and I told him my tale of woe. Although we were both tired, we had no choice. After supper we headed south to get my car. Along the dirt road there were very distinctive lines carved into the gravel. The spousal unit's mouth tightened. "Tell me you didn't drive all the way to your gym on a flat tire. Tell me you didn't wreck your rim."

Oh man. I told him the car didn't feel any different when I was driving it except for a slight sway when I was turning into the gym. The ensuing silence is best described by the words "a tad frosty".

The guard was suspicious at the border because the spousal unit very seldom crosses. The border guard started asking 20 questions and without thinking I started answering them even though they were addressed to the spousal unit. Oddly enough, the spousal unit does not find this whimsical little tendency of mine charming. I could see his mood darken perceptibly.

"You two ARE married," the guard said, with a grin. He let us through. The silence in the truck, which heretofore could have been described as "a tad frosty" had dropped to something in the range of "nuclear winter".

We got to the gym. The spousal unit examined my flat closely. His mood lightened. He said my rim was fine, the tire had probably gone flat as I was turning into the gym. Whew. He showed me how to get my jack out. It turned out the tire tools were on the piece of wood that fits over the tire--had I flipped it over instead of just lifting it off, I would have found them.

In words of one syllable, the spousal unit pointed out that cracking the owner's manual to my car, the manual that was sitting comfortably in the glove compartment of said car, would have explained all this to me, of course.

Fine.

The excitement of a tire being changed out in the parking lot drew several people out of the gym. One of them told us there was another garage that would have been happy to help and that I'd actually driven past it on my way to the garage outside the village. It's set back a bit from the road, so I didn't see it.

Fine.

We got home just before dark, and the fatigue of a very long day showed plainly on the spousal unit's face. He accepted my apology gracefully, but I know he was ticked off that I couldn't handle a very small, very simple car breakdown. Frankly, I'm disappointed in myself as well.

Since today's theme seems to be "ways Marn makes the spousal unit's life a living hell one of unexpected surprises" I'll bet you're wondering how the Codex BBQ Pizza project is coming, eh?

Ah, yes, the project to create the perfect pizza on the barbecue ...

I think it's best if we just ignore the debacle at the beginning of last week. I'm counting on that old clich� "Time heals all wounds" to kick in at any minute. Perhaps ... perhaps one day I will be able to speak of it but for now I think it's best to remain mute. After all, I don't want to scar any young, impressionable minds.

A lesser man would have run screaming from me when I announced Saturday that I was going to try again. Ah, but I am married to a man of substance, a man of grit, a man who, thanks to my utter ineptitude in the kitchen, can eat almost anything.

Well, his patience and optimism have been rewarded and thanks to Kat I now have The Almost Perfect Crust. It's an excellent crust (the nutmeg really gives it an interesting flavour) and I think that if I add a bit more salt, it will be perfect. I'm also going to try it with Italian Seasoning in lieu of the basil just to see what happens.

When I have this nailed, you, my three loyal readers, will have complete and detailed instructions.

You know, mostly I take the spousal unit for granted. But occasionally it strikes me that when he signed up on the For Better or For Worse Plan nearly 29 years ago, perhaps he didn't quite foresee just how much the words "For Worse" could encompass. I don't recall the words "flat tires" or "Codex BBQ Pizza" being mentioned anywhere.

I think that we can all agree that it's probably just as well.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 360.25 miles (579.8 kilometers)
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers