Last week my parent's Honda Pilot came down with the dreaded flat tire sickness. Nathaniel took off the flat, put it in the back of his truck, and he and Grandpa zipped down to the Goodyear store to have it repaired.
They arrived there to find that it was closed. Permanantly.
The only other decent tire store is six miles away. Did they go there?
No, they came back home with the flat tire.
I asked them why they didn't go to the other tire store, and they both pointed a finger at the other.
Grandpa shrugged his shoulders and said that Nathaniel just turned around and came home without saying anything.
Nathaniel said that Grandpa didn't want to go six miles without a cigarette. (Nathaniel won't let him smoke in his truck.)
Whatever the reason, I was proud that Nathaniel got his first crack at fixing a flat himself under Grandpa's experienced eye. He did an excellent job. The repair kit cost $1.99.