Such Is The Lonely Life

of a tire widow. It was about a year ago that my husband decided to get back in to the tire game - something he swore he'd never do again - after a 5 year absence. While the tire game had largely been good to him, the company he hooked up with had not. It didn't start out that way, but changes in structure and management led to a rapidly deteriorating environment.

He left for what he thought were greener pastures. We couldn't have been more wrong. He was promised so much, but so little was given. He briefly left there to try his hand at something else, but again, restructuring lead to problems, not only for him but several others working there, including my dad. Needing a job, he reluctantly returned to the not-so-greener pastures, and the next few years were a challenge. When you're truly miserable in your work, it makes life hell. I've been there myself.

I was happy in his return to the world of tires. It's something he knows and something he's good at. He decided not to fight it anymore. It also allowed him to return to the employ of the man who taught him everything he knew about tires his first time around. He had also had left the company before Nelson did, citing similar reasons. He was someone we trusted. The company had a lot to offer, and it was a done deal.

Returning to the tire world does bring one unpleasant side effect: the road service call. Like the mail service, neither rain nor snow nor gloom of night keeps the truck drivers of the world from making their appointed runs, and getting blown tires. At any time of the day or evening, including weekends and holidays, the Nextel Cell Phone will play it's annoying little ditty, and it's time to go. Tonight, it went off at 8:30. Destination: somewhere on Interstate 180 to replace two blown tires. Sometimes it's close, like the Sheetz on the strip, and sometimes it's far away, like Laporte. Most of the time it involves getting in one of our vehicles, and driving up to the shop - about a 15 minute drive - where the service truck is loaded, and the call commences. Most of the time he's gone anywhere from 2 hours to 4 hours.

It does have it's perks. It's guaranteed double time, and guaranteed 2 hour minimum. The downside is that when you're on call, you have no life. It will never fail - the moment you leave to go somewhere, the phone rings. You also get little sleep. I didn't used to mind it so much the first go-round. I was allowed to go along, and I frequently did. We kept each other awake, and we kept each other company, and in the event that there was no driver around, I was there to call for help if he needed it, and was unable to call himself. This time, however I'm not allowed to go - insurance regulations and all that, so I worry.

It's a trade off, though. He's happy at this job. He's well paid and well treated. He's about to get a nice promotion. The occasional annoyance is deal-able. Besides, the diploma from Firestone University is worth it's weight in gold...... :D