In which he does it again

A few days ago I gave my boss a hand when she had flat. I carry an air compressor in my car (would it surprise anyone to learn that both of my parents were scout leaders?) and it was no skin off my nose to grab it and fill the tire for her. After all, I am trying to reverse a massive karma deficit here, so I cannot afford to pass up even the smallest opportunity to pick up a point or two.

I hadn't talked to Dad in a few days so yesterday I stopped in at the VFW for a beer and to see how his appointment with the retina specialist went. We got on the subject of his truck inspection being due, and I mentioned the earlier tire incident.

A scrawny arm reached back. Out came the wallet. The bony fingers poked around inside it for a moment (during which I listened very carefully -- but unsuccessfully -- for any mumbled incantation or spell that I'd somehow been missing for all these years), then emerged clutching a slick tri-fold full-color pamphlet put out by some tire company, titled Inspect, Inflate, Evaluate.

Not quite as impressive as the milk board incident, but pretty damn good nevertheless. I held back the urge to applaud.

"Here, give her this," he said, tossing it onto the bar. "But make a copy; I want that back."

Why, I have no idea, since he's been driving around with one of his front tires at about 14 psi for as long as I can remember. He's not big on practicing what he preaches. "Do as I say, not as I do," was possibly the most frequently uttered phrase I heard from him while growing up. But that's for another story.