I'm a grandpa, first and foremost. This blog nods to that with its name. I remember my grandpa, who would drop whatever he was doing to help me out of a bind. It's our job.
Grandson Zach came to me this afternoon as I was lounging in the shop. He had a flat, in my driveway. Too bad, so sad. Zach knows how to change a flat. He wanted to change it in the shop, where we have floor jacks and air tools. Okay, but we need to air the tire so that you are not running on a rim. I gave him a small compressor that would run off his battery. Air the tire and bring the car around.
I prepped the shop, moving stuff so that he could get his car in the door. In a few minutes, he came around and drove the car into the shop. He knows how to do this, but I sat on a stool and coached him through the job. He used my tools to change the tire, then we went through his trunk, made sure that he had a jack and a lug wrench and a jack handle.
He needs new tires, and he is gainfully employed. I'll be a pain in his ass until new rubber is between his car and the road. If necessary, I'll get his grandma involved. He does not want that.
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