We were down to four bales of hay left in the barn. Since the horses are chewing their way through one to two bales a day, I decided it was time to get some more brome. So, I hitched my little trailer to my little truck and got my little self ready to go get some more hay.

After Wendell and his assistant helped me load up the last time, it was obvious that the truck tires were a bit low on air. Actually, they had less than half the recommended PSI. Wendell happened to have an air tank with enough left in it to bring me up to safety. So, having learned from that, I checked the air pressure in the truck tires before I left. Still good.

So, an hour-and-a-half later, with a good load of hay on the truck and one on the trailer, I headed back home from the hay barn, which is thirty-four miles away.

Not quite halfway home, the trailer began slewing ever so slightly back and forth. I slowed down to fifty. Another mile and I had to slow down to forty-five. Something was up, definitely.

Fortunately, I had already slowed down a bit more when I saw the trailer start pitching sharply from one side to the other. Braking slightly and easing toward the shoulder, I looked into my right rear-view mirror just in time to see that little puff of blue smoke that tells you your weekend is going to include the opportunity to replace a trailer tire.

By the time I’d come to a safe stop, with both loads of hay still intact, I’d reached a conclusion. When I’d had my little air gauge out, a couple of hours earlier, I should have checked the tire pressure on the trailer tires, too.

It’s not terribly uncommon that the small part of our lives that we fail to examine is the part that blows up on us.

H. Arnett
2/13/12