So the other morning, I was headed to weekly Men’s Breakfast. It looked a little overcast, so I decided to take the truck. We live on top of a steep hill, and as I was driving down I noticed the truck was really pulling to the right. I stopped and got out to confirm my suspicions, a flat tire. I pulled over parked the truck, realizing that no tire repair shop is going to be open yet I decided to take my scooter and head on to breakfast and deal with it after a full stomach and a cup of coffee. So after enjoying my time at breakfast I head to a tire shop. The tire was so flat that I didn’t want to risk bending a rim or knowing how much the truck dislikes me, an axle. Michael, correctly observed that the truck really only seems to have trouble when I’m driving it. I went to a tire shop at the bottom of our hill. I talked to the guy working there about the cost of taking someone with a jack and the cost of repair. I felt he was charging me twice for what the repair normally would cost, and I decided to go find a different tire store. The one where we bought the tires, but it is a bit farther away (five minutes down the road is a long way in Sosúa). I have a better relationship with that shop anyway. So, one of the workers grabs one of the big hydraulic jacks (neither one of us wanted to use my small jack). Remember I am on my scooter, and the guy decided to drive his motorcycle instead of riding with me, so he sits on top of the jack with the four foot handle sticking straight out behind him, and we head up to the hill. He gets the truck jacked up and then realizes the tire iron he has is too big for the lug nuts on my truck so he says he is going to run back and get a different tire iron, because the one I have in the truck that I know we have used before is too big also. So, long story short, he doesn’t come back for two hours, yep, two hours. The kids walk down the hill from the house for a while and we talk and goof around. A neighbor stops by we chat a little. He decided to go ask a neighbor of his if he can borrow a tire iron. He comes back after about thirty minutes and says when he got to the neighbor’s house it was all locked up and didn’t seem right and come to find out the neighbor had died in his sleep (WHATTTT?????) I chat with two other neighbors, and in the mean time I am trying to track down the phone number for the tire shop, and eventually ask someone to go down and see what is going on. Evidently the guy forgot about me. ARGGGHHHHH. So, he comes back up with a tire iron in about five minutes has the tire off the truck and then takes it down the hill on his motorcycle by sitting on top of it.. Impressive. I had to take a photo, but only had the camera on my phone which does not have very good quality. He goes and repairs the tire, comes back up, puts the tire back on. All in all it cost me two and a half hours and US$5.50. But I had breakfast!