a tale of two husbands


when I was in my 20s and my first husband was leaving his parting shot was to give me a rusty tire iron. He said with that even I could change a tire.

Well, I’ve never changed a tire, but every time I’ve needed a tire changed and produced this tire iron whatever guy doing it seemed pleased. I’ve moved this tire iron from car to car. It was symbolic of that relationship. I think it is the only thing I have left.

This Winter I had snow tires put on the Miata so in Spring the other wheels needed to go on the car. And again out came the rusty tire iron that is always wrapped in plastic. I asked my much better second husband if he could do anything about the rust. To my delight he painted it a shiny white to match my car.

A white tire iron, is far better than candy or flowers.