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I want to relate a story that happened to me this past week that I think will be instructive for many SurvivalBlog readers.

My journey into prepping started about a year ago, when my eyes were opened after reading a contrarian economist’s books about the fragile state of our economy, and the impending implications that will inevitably result if our world continues to operate on tomorrow’s dollar and with a Nanny-state mentality. The very same day I finished his latest book, I went to my local bookstore to find similar titles that could augment what I’d already read.  This is how I came upon your book “How to Survive the End of the World as We Know It”.  I’ve since gone on to read “Patriots“ (which took me only a couple of days – I couldn’t put it down!) and rarely is there a morning that I don’t peruse your latest blog updates after my morning Bible devotional and prayer time.

Despite all the reading and planning I’ve put into ensuring the safety and security of my family’s future over the last 12-18 months, my experiences over the last two days have served to remind me that, even if you think you have everything squared away, there’s always danger in resting on your laurels.

While driving through a rougher part of my city’s downtown core, a pleasant senior citizen rolled up beside me in his minivan and motioned for me to drop my window.  I hesitantly lowered the passenger window a crack, only to hear the old fellow tell me that I had a flat on my rear passenger-side tire.

I proceeded to turn the radio down, flick the noisy heater fan off, and sure enough I heard the unmistakable “crunch-crunch-crunch” of my SUV‘s right-rear rim, grinding away on ice and asphalt as I crawled up the street, scanning the road for a safe place to pull over. On a side street, in front of some seedy apartments, I parked my vehicle beside an empty curb, turned my four-way flashers on, and got out to inspect the damage.  The sidewall of the tire had been completely obliterated, the friction from driving a mere six blocks on a flat had ground a white ring into the black rubber and nearly severed the tire into strips of uselessness.

Not only was this horrible timing (I had an appointment on the other side of town, about 20 minutes away), but I had to desperately go to the washroom. (I was going to hold it until I arrived at my appointment).

Note: In times of emergency, it’s imperative that you not only keep your powder dry, but keep your bladder empty!

To top if all off – My cell phone had just died literally 30 seconds before my silver-haired informant pulled up to inform my of my lack of a working fourth wheel, and my car charger fro teh cell phone was useless as I had somehow burnt the fuse out for the cigar-lighter and couldn’t use it to charge my phone.

All I could do was quickly lock up my vehicle, stow away out-of-sight any valuables I had (a video camera, files for work that contained sensitive private information, and numerous other emergency tools and gear that were worth a good chunk of change), and make my way as quickly as possible to the nearest washroom.

As an after thought, I grabbed a handful of random change from the concealed cup holder in my center console, thinking I’d use this at a pay phone to call a cab, or to postpone my next appointment, seeing as my phone had turned itself into a paperweight due to my lack of foresight the night before.

Note: If the grid is up, charge your phone and use it!  When this fails, make sure you’ve got some dimes or quarters stowed away in your glove box.

Well, wouldn’t you know that nobody observes pedestrian crossings in this part of downtown.  So I stood there, or rather, squirmed there for what seemed like an agonizing amount of time (likely only a few seconds) until oncoming vehicles slowed down to let me cross to the diner that had just closed five minutes before I walked up.  (I know, what a day this is turning out to be, hey?)

[Details on an agonizing search for a restroom deleted, for brevity.]

I get back to my SUV and start packing my attache case with aforementioned valuables, because my plan now is to hoof it with my business dress shoes, in ice and snow, all the way to a useable phone at the first establishment that will let me make a call.  This, after all our recent snowstorms that have blown through and dropped 3 and 4 foot snow drifts on the side of the roads.  (The stuff you Americans are getting this week is courtesy from my local weather man, and a big low pressure area stretching from Texas to New York).

So typically the unwritten rule in this part of town is that nobody will let you make a call, or use a washroom, because if you live nearby you’re probably homeless, a drunk, or a drug addict.  At this point, I’m hoping they think at worst that I’m a nice drug dealer, at best that I actually am truly down on my luck with the circumstances at hand and I do really need to use their phone–to call a cab–not to book a drug deal.

The lady at the liquor store said it was okay so I dialed a local taxi dispatch center.  They say five to fifteen minute pickup time.  I say perfect, as this will get me to my appointment on time and on with my day.

And with not a moment to spare, up pulls my friendly neighbourhood Turkish cab driver, who regales me with stories of how crazy it is to live in Turkey, how his Somalian cab driver friends had it even worse before coming here, and how he hates the snow.  I don’t blame him.

Now, why the whole story about a flat tire and how does it relate to prepping?

Here’s what I had thought:

• I thought I knew where the spare tire was in my vehicle (under the back covering in the SUV’s trunk).
• I thought I knew where the jack and tire iron were located (back right side of the trunk space, behind a removable plastic covering).
• I thought I knew I could get a tire changed in just a few minutes and be on my way.

Here’s the problem: Upon closer inspection – none of the above items were where I thought they were.  It took me 10 minutes to realize the spare tire was under the trunk, removable only by inserting a rod into a mysteriously-located opening and turning clockwise to lower said spare tire to the ground.

Did it have air? Was it even installed properly by the previous owner? Where was this blasted rod I’m supposed to have?

After my wife picked me up at the office (I never did go back to the SUV until today), I spent a good chunk of time on Google figuring out where the jack was located and how this rod worked and where I could find it.

(Turns out, an SUV elf had hidden them beneath my rear bench seats, and then neglected to tell me about this…)

THE REALITY:

1)  If I had practiced changing a tire in this particular car, even if it was merely visualizing it in my head with vivid detail, I would’ve had the muscle memory to rely on, instead of trusting my faulty noggin’s faculty for recalling needed-facts when I needed them most.

2)  If I had imagined such a simple scenario (getting a flat) in my SUV instead of stocking away beans, bullets, and Band-Aids in preparation for armed conflict with invading nations, or mutant zombie biker hordes, or green-lizard-aliens, then I might’ve actually remembered where the jack was, where the tire iron was, and where that confounded spare tire release rod was located.

3)  If this had occurred on a middle-of-nowhere country road, I would’ve been in a lot more trouble, as my phone had died, I was under dressed for the weather (business attire is stupid in cold weather, even if you’re in business).

At the end of the day, no amount of emergency winter shovels (I have two, one large, and one small foldable one similar to the U.S. Army’s entrenching tool), no amount of get-home-gear in my bug-out-bag (which is stuffed full of food rations, water, fire kit, med kit, spare clothes, winter coat, gloves, survival gear, knives, hatchet, kindling, tarp, rope, etc. etc. ad nauseam), the spare jerry can of gas, the tool box full of tools (bolt cutters, socket set, wrenches, pliers, wire cutters, hammer, crow bar, duct tape, etc), the set of gas masks with NATO NBC filters encased in an air-tight cylindrical storing containers… Absolutely none of these would’ve helped me get my vehicle back up and running.

I could’ve been stranded on a side road, a long hike to a major highway, in shoes that barely keep my feet warm when the heat is on in my vehicle.

Even worse – my wife could’ve been driving my vehicle that day, with our young daughter, and she could’ve had to deal with this on her own. I’m glad this all occurred, because now when I look back at the situation, I realize that I made a few critical errors:

• Not charging my cell phone every day before going to bed.  This should be a SOP.
• Not dressing for the weather (it was -35 Celsius with wind chill that morning) or at least keeping a spare set of winter boots in the trunk
• Not knowing where my critical tools were for my vehicle
• Not understanding how my vehicle’s spare tire system operated

The first two items are common sense, which sometimes isn’t so common and is in short supply.

The latter two items could’ve been prevented by being prepared, this being accomplished by ensuring that I make it a habit to practice simple things like changing a tire on your own vehicle.

This week the price was a few postponed appointments with clients, a $32.30 cab fare, plus a $7.70 tip, and a lost afternoon the next day as I proceeded to change the tire now that I knew what I was doing.

Next time, it could’ve been a much steeper price.

No doubt, any criticisms from yourself and your readers is warranted. And the stupid thing is, I know better.  My job in getting my preps squared away has inadvertently prevented a number of scenarios over the last year. Some of them were things that we never even saw coming. (Thanks for God’s providence!)  You think I would’ve never had something like this, a simple flat tire in the dead of winter, get me off track. But it did. And it can happen to you if you don’t practice, practice, practice. Hopefully somebody else benefits from my mistakes here.