Essay — Emergency Supplies

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Last week, while I was driving to aerobics, the tire with the spike light lit up on my dash. My first thought was, Call home. But then I remembered the guy that shares my space was out fishing.

A quick U turn brought me to the dealership where I’d bought my car, and in minutes the problem was solved. As the mechanic dropped the bolt that had pierced my rear tire onto the counter, I had another thought. Suppose I’d been driving around Carpenter Country’s back roads instead of in town.

The reality was I needed to stock my car with a few emergency supplies–like a pair of sneakers and a jacket in case I had to walk somewhere. A pen and notepad to write down street names. A first aid kit, a flashlight, screwdrivers, maybe jumper cables and extra fuses.

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Okay, what emergency hadn’t I covered? How about love bug season? To clean those yucky critters from my windshield, I should have a roll of paper towels, a super-sized spray bottle of window wash and a squeegee. Roadside flares might be a good idea, too.

At that point, my cell phone jingled. It was my jolly fisherman announcing he was on his way home. I told him what had happened earlier, that the problem had been solved, but I was going to start carrying a roadside emergency kit.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “Just call me.”

“Sure thing,” I replied.

This morning I put a fully stocked survival kit into the trunk of my car.


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