|My new friend Robert Burton, who fixed my flat.|
Well, somewhere along the way, my left front tire had a rude encounter with a rusty nail. At the beginning of the 2 1/2-hour drive back to Nashville, the tire light flickered. A quick inspection in a parking lot in a small town confirmed the worst. A flat. Damn.
The local tire store wasn’t open, so I stopped at the only car dealership in town, and that’s where I met Walter, a salesman who was about to close the place. He couldn’t fix the tire, he told me, but he knew who could. Walter placed a call to Robert, who arrived 20 minutes later.
My character meter flashed “Good People” moments after I met these guys. Robert popped on my spare, then filled it with air. I followed him to his service station eight miles down the road. At his humble place of business, Robert jumped from story to story as fast as he and his son fixed my tire. Robert is battling cancer. Married five times. Has 11 kids. Lived in California and Georgia. Really likes the ladies.
In a flash, Robert & Co. had me back on the road back to Tennessee. His fee? No charge, he told me, “this is what we do.” I told Robert how deeply appreciative I was for what he and Walter did. We took a selfie and hugged.
Be well, my new friends. And, fellas, look for some fine Tennessee whiskey in the mail soon.
Enjoy the journey.