“Low Pressure Blues"

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(11-25)

 

 

Busy on a Monday, chores on the list

Appointments in order, not to be missed

My low-buck ride, nearly 20 years old

Decent enough to keep me out on the road

I’ve never been used to modernist frills

Have been more inclined to keep tight with my bills

But now and then I note, a feature unknown

Like a plug for music, from my cellular phone

Now I will admit, my hauler is adored

A wagon with many miles, rolled up on the board

But never did I suspect that it would rattle

In the midst of a race to win my schedule battle

A doctor in town was the first stop of many

And afterward, duties for the family, aplenty

I knew that this drive would last long past noon

And had already accepted my moment of gloom

But as I went westward, toward the county seat

An icon lit up, for a fix to complete

I peered for a moment, and wondered with doubt

What the flash on my dash was glowing about

‘Low tire pressure’ it warned in a script

I feared that my vehicle might falter and flip

Yet gripping the wheel, and an assortment of levers

I assessed that the handling was no different than ever

Though, at my first pause, I inspected each rubber hoop with care

And concluded that no flaw could be seen, anywhere

Not that it mattered, I had to be gone

The hour was too late, for tarrying long

I went here and there, till my needs were fulfilled

And then sat at home, with a brew, lightly chilled

Pondering hard, over what had nearly stalled

My run through the township, risking it all

My sleep came after sunset, both restless and wanting

I dreamed of a repair shop, with costs that were daunting

But with morning coffee spilled into my lap

I groggily checked for a fuel-station map

In town I remembered, a machine in between

A convenience outlet, and its carwash, pristine

There I could reinflate the tires on my 4x4

I had done it in the past, I had done it before

My old, green pickup had once ridden on rot

Not the most attractive choice on a dealership lot

But thrifty and trusty, and able to last

I owned it for years, until saving enough cash

To buy something better, for snowfall and rain

I had to be practical, when gambling again

So, with this new challenge confronting my lair

I chose to pay a visit when no one was there

The meter was clear, no trouble with selecting

I parked at the curb and got to poking and pumping

Fully automatic, and calibrated for all

I hobbled around the corners until firming up the sidewalls

My guess was that something had gone amiss with the set

But instead, I realized that the warning light was correct

I needed to pay more attention to this act

My neglect had caused delay, as a matter of fact

I could only celebrate, not going too far

Without seeking aid for my decades-old car

Now better and boasting, I left the business with a grin

Confident that my pause had paid dividends for the win
I tugged at the steering, and knew it was tight

All the way ‘round our Chardon Square, and back to the stoplight

Headed toward my home, far out in the pines

No longer carrying this curse on my mind

Only at home did the circumstances reveal

That my arthritic joints would make a woeful appeal

On my bench, outside, I ached and complained

Though my sacrifice was sufficient, for what had been gained

Now I could behold the prize I had scored

An evening of rest, was my simple reward