The Day We Lost Our Wheel

   By Lorie Castro

Picture this: a smiling fifteen year old boy cruising his primed, ‘87 GMC Jimmy. His tires were 35” with a four-inch lift. The California sun rays beamed down on his smug face. Windows down, baseball hat on, music bumped on his cell phone because the radio didn’t work. He tapped the steering wheel to the beat. The Jimmy rode high off the ground, so high that a person needed to climb up to get in. Beside this carefree teenager sat his mother. I was terrified. Tommy had his learners permit. He had begged me to go out for a drive that day. That outing became the most memorable and terrifying days in our lives! 

It was a Saturday. Tommy wanted to put spacers on his tires, so they would stick out. Knowing nothing about cars, I told him to watch Youtube before he did it. He did. Supposedly. His Jimmy was parked in front of our house. There, he labored for hours covered in grease and smudged with dirt; taking the tires off one by one, meticulously putting on the spacers, and then positioning the tires back on. Wrenches, drill bits, and other varying tools littered the curb and street, sprinkled around him as he worked tirelessly, anticipating the final result. 

When he called me outside for his ta-da moment, he was radiating with self satisfaction. The Jimmy now sat with her tires sticking out. He had done it! I was impressed. Then, he suggested we take her for a spin and try them out. “No way!” I replied quickly. I was impressed, but not crazy! 

“Mom,” he said, “It’s perfectly safe.” His eagerness was tangible and though I tried to resist, I eventually agreed to a short drive. What could possibly go wrong?

It was going well for a while. We chatted and laughed about things I can’t remember anymore. Probably things that were important to a teenage boy, like baseball or what's for dinner. We headed up and over the overpass bridge. It curved over highway 101. From the top you could see dozens of cars whizzing by below us. That’s the exact moment when things went awry. 

Without warning and with a loud report, the Jimmy lurched forcefully. We glanced at each other, eyes wide open and mouths agape. “What the…” I heard him mumble. Before I could mouth any words, our rear left side dropped to the ground and our wheel rolled down the overpass! The metal brake drum crashed into the asphalt. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

The Jimmy pulled towards oncoming traffic. Hard. My son was turning the wheel as hard as he could to straighten her out before we hit the Accord we were now poised to annihilate. I held on for dear life! We were out of control; backside dragging, sparks flying, brakes screaming, and our tire was rolling fifty yards away and about to take out a yard sale. 

 The Jimmy eventually came to a stop. Tommy had managed to avoid flying off the bridge onto the freeway, colliding with the Accord, and staying in command of his wits while all this was happening. That is more than I can say for myself. Completely freaked out, I hollered, “What the heck just happened?! Didn’t you tighten the bolts?” 

He shrugged sheepishly. I felt a tinge of remorse for raising my voice. Until he replied, “Ya, I tightened the bolts. But once I put the spacers on, the bolts weren’t long enough to go all the way. I figured they’d be fine.”

A bigger eye roll and, “Oh my gawd,” has never escaped my lips. “So you’re telling me…..?” I stopped myself.

“Sorry, mom,” he said, head hung in shame, “I didn’t realize.”

Poor kid. It was clear when the gawkers gathered around that he was never going to live this down. We were quite the small town spectacle. 

The day the wheel came off became a chapter in the “Adventures of Mom and Tom,” Sort of a running mental book about all our adventures, or misadventures. A collection of memories and lessons learned; like, refer to the experts next time. We created chapters to our book one escapade at a time. For all our adventures, though, the day the wheel came off still tops the charts as the most unforgettable of all. You know what? I wouldn’t exchange it for anything.

Copyright © 2025 by Lorie D. Castro

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