Venison and Flat Tires

Got your attention, didn't I? It has been a crazy week and most of the crazies are due to venison and flat tires. Stay with me and I'll explain this unlikely combination.

A young man I know is an avid deer hunter. He and his cousins spent every possible moment hunting deer and other wild game. Deer, however, is their favorite prey. What these young men do with the deer and wild game they harvest is heartwarming. Once they have provided for their families, the game they kill is given to elderly or handicapped folks and poor families. They will accept no money for their gifts of fresh meat. A thank you is enough. Nor do they want publicity, a wish I gladly honor.

Earlier this week my husband and I received a call telling us one of them would be bringing a cooler of venison to us on Thursday. In early afternoon, near time for me to go to work, he arrived. The cooler was set in my kitchen and after a brief chat, he was gone to make another delivery. I promptly called my boss and took a vacation day so as to process and freeze the meat. I did not get finished until nine that evening.

Hunters are often belittled and criticized by many for "killing Bambi". Where these men hunt, the deer population has grown so numerous that if hunting did not take place the deer would soon starve to death or become pests. Instead, the herds are thinned and many families are fed. There are hunters out there who are trophy hunters and kill just for the antlers and actually leave the animal to rot in the forest. This type hunting I, and everyone else, should condemn. Real hunters do as these young men and make sure the animals do not lose their lives in vain.

As it turns out, staying home to process and freeze our venison saved me from a situation. The next day when I went to leave for work, I discovered I had a flat tire. If not for staying home the day before, the tire would have deflated in the parking lot where I work, stranding me some miles from home.

Jim being in a wheelchair and myself being not the strongest woman on earth, we faced a dilemma. A few phone calls revealed that no one in the neighborhood was home to help remove the tire and take it to be repaired. The plant manager where I work offered to come put the little "donut" spare on, IF I would then drive to work on the donut and home again at midnight last night. I said no, with a spicy adjective thrown in for good measure. I would not drive with a donut tire on my front drive axle unless it was to the tire store for repair. He never showed up. Hmmmm. I will not reveal my innermost thoughts on that.

After that phone call, Jim said he thought the two of us could manage it. Away we went to see what we could do. It took him some time, but my wheelchair bound husband removed the flat, got my donut tire from underneath the car and put it on. I was mainly a spectator during the whole project. I am so proud of him. He is very pleased with himself, and rightly so. He is an amazing man. I thank the Gods everyday for sending him to me. It was too late in the evening to get the tire repaired so I missed work again. I'm sure that cost me a few brownie points, but will worry about that later.

This morning I carefully drove my crippled car to the tire store. My flat was caused by dry rot. Even though the tires looked "good" with plenty of tread, they were six years old. Age had taken its toll. All were near the point of no longer holding air. I had them all replaced and am rolling again.

Thus ends the unlikely story of venison and flat tires. One more instance of the many strange combinations of events that unfold at Shady Hollow.

Be Blessed!