Heading north on 101 in this hump day evening and just past the airport, Bill

was jolted by a bang from the right. Some loose gravel hitting the side of the

car, he thought. Then the tire pressure warning light came up. It had never

sprung up in the middle of a trip and his guts told him to get off the freeway.

In the nearby Santa Clara Square, his suspicion was confirmed: the left rear tire

was flat as flat could be. A quarter of the car bore down on it and the rubber

felt hot as coal.

Bill was sweating bullets. None of his spiritual practices helped. His phone had

no data plan (although Tim's had), the place had no free WiFi, and he couldn't

find the roadside emergency membership card. The last time a tire on this same car

went kaput was to the east of the Dumbarton Bridge, he recalled, and Tim was then

still in a booster seat. That time, he dialed roadside assistance and it took two

hours for help to arrive.

Tim, however, remained calm as a Buddha: "Dad, we need to call AAA*." There was

no emotion in his voice. The boy had always had a poise, a remarkable genetic

improvement over his hot-headded parents.

The Website could not verify Bill's name and address. He decided to risk it:

"It's only 10 miles from home. I'll go slow. Shouldn't be a problem. Tim, look

up how to drive with a flat tire."

In less than two miles down the road, Tim sounded the alarm in the same cool

voice: "Dad, every site I've checked so far says you should stop."

"Okay."

While Tim was trying again to reach AAA in the parking lot of the little mall

where they parked, Bill got out and opened the rear door of the hatchback. He

had never changed a tire in his life but somehow felt the time had come.

"Tim, find out how to change a tire."

As Bill got the jack out, Tim was already giving instructions: "Put it under

here." he pointed to the space in front of the tire and under the rear door.

"And have you applied the hand brake?" Bill detected a tinge of excitment.

While Bill turned the jack screw by hand, Tim fished out the rest of the gear

from the trunk. The two swapped jobs. Tim continued to raise the car with a

metal bar and Bill tried to wrench the bent screw to free the spare tire from

the trunk floor.

Everything went smoothly. Not much discussion and no arguing. Father and son

worked side by side: loosened and removed the lug nuts, took out the damaged

tire, raised the car up a bit more, mounted the spare on the lug bolts, and

finally put back and tightened the nuts. In 15 minutes, they were off.

"You know what Tim? This is real education, for both of us. Something we don't

learn in school. But don't tell mom. She'll ruin it with money. She's already

talking about buying a new car."

* They shouldn't call AAA. Bill was with AllState.