It was late August 1969. My sister and I had been out to dinner with friends in a nearby town. It was late and we were on our way home in my sister’s red Mustang. Only a few days earlier we had returned from a nice long vacation at the beach, two children of the sixties-blonde and tan, with stars in our eyes and hearts that spilled over with dreams as we listened to the music of John Lennon and Jimi Hendrix.

About halfway home we heard a loud popping sound and the car began to wobble. One of the Mustang’s back tires had blown out and we quickly pulled

off the road. Of course this was long before cell phones and we knew we’d have to walk at least ten miles to call for help. The highway was practically deserted as we got out of the car to assess the situation.

“Maybe I could change it,” I cautiously said to my sister as we looked at the back tire, flatter than a pancake. “Do we have a spare?” My sister looked at me doubtfully. Change offers up a new sense of possibility and helps us to move forward. “Do you really think you could change a tire?” she asked. “ Maybe,” I said with some reservation.

Then I told her about dad showing me how to change a tire on his car. Our father had passed away a couple of years earlier and about a year or so before he died he had made a point of showing me how to change a tire. “Every young lady needs to know how to change a tire,” he had said. “So I want you to watch and help me to do this.” — Beliefnet.com