Scotland. Suburbia. 5 am Flat Tire

My most recent wild mistake; what is it with me and flat tires?

My recent hidey hole retreat almost ended in disaster.

If you haven't read about why I chose to disappear for ten days:

Before I left on my trip I turned my location tracking off so I could keep my whereabouts a secret. Fun!

What I forgot to do is turn on my international cell service.

I can manage without it! I told myself. It was part of the adventure! I felt wild and free: I rented a camper van, booked a ferry to the Outer Hebrides, and headed towards the highlands of Scotland.

The error of my ways only became apparent in the wee hours of the morning of my last day in Scotland.

Because I've spent the past few summers in Scotland I had a fairly good sense of the terrain I was traveling. But for driving in and around Edinburgh I had learned a trick: I would go to a cafe, connect to the internet and plug in where I wanted to go in Apple maps. Then even when I was disconnected from the internet I could follow the blue line on my phone’s map.

My method had a small issue: if I missed a turn or somehow got off the pre-determine route my phone was no help, because I wasn't connected to the great GPS in the sky.

At these times my phone still tracked where I was as a blue arrow moving on the screen. I could also see that I was off course because the magical blue line of direction would move away from me on my little screen. Usually I just had to go around the block and I was back on my blue line of guidance.

My flight from Scotland left at 9 am. I was to fly from Edinburgh to Dublin, Dublin to San Francisco where I would be picked up and driven three or so hours to a tiny town in California to teach.

I had spent the previous day having a lovely time visiting friends, followed by a not so pleasant evening of throwing up repeatedly in their downstairs toilet. Ugh.

My final day in Scotland was spent lying in bed praying that I would feel better for the next morning's flight.

I woke up at 4 am still a little woozy but feeling stronger, plugged in directions to the Edinburgh airport while I had wifi, and then walked to the parking garage.

I plugged my phone into the car so my map showed up on the dashboard screen. All set. (A few days earlier I had swapped my camper van for a manual 6-shift little Fiat.)

And then I drove out of the parking lot and immediately lost my blue line.

Shit. I thought. I had plugged in my directions from the hotel, not from the garage which was five blocks away. No worries! I thought. I can figure this out. How hard can it be to get out of Edinburgh towards the airport?

Very hard, it turns out.

I spent about twenty minutes of precious time trying to figure out how to get back to the blue line. I crossed it a couple of times, back tracked, went rogue and started picking streets at random.

And then, a happy vision: the blue line was back in my sights. Straight ahead, about five blocks.

I was going to do it! I was going to make my plane! I was a wild free being!

And then I hit the curb.

BAM.

The left front tire popped.

Oh no. Really?!?

I limped to the side of the road, turned off the car, and reflexively went to dial AAA.

Right.

No cell service.

Middle of suburbia Scotland.

5:30 am.

Plane to catch.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

First thought: Note to self. Do not travel without cell service.

In my newest book, Wild, Willing, and Wise I talk about how we can be in deficient wild or excess wild. I was currently living an example of excess wild. It was great that I was on a wild adventure, not so smart that I couldn’t make a phone call in an emergency. #wildlesson

Second thought: Set your intent, sweetheart.

I will make it to my flight on time.

I will be on the plane to California.

Third thought: Get help.

I grabbed my purse, found the info pamphlet from Avis about what to do if you are in an accident, and stood on the sidewalk for a moment.

I am willing, I thought. Let’s do this.

Note: willingness does not mean you know how something is going to end. Being willing opens the door for possibility, and engages our courage.

Left or right? I asked myself.

Left.

I started walking in the darkness, trying to remember how far back the last gas station was.

Remember your intent. Be on the plane to California.

Up ahead I saw a man crossing the street with a suitcase. Help ahead! I thought.

No. Keep going.

I argued with myself a bit. But shouldn't I be asking to borrow his phone? Was my shyness and not wanting to bother people getting in the way of me getting help?

No. Keep going.

I mentally let go of the man with the suitcase and went back to my intent: be on the plane to California.

I walked two more blocks when I passed a woman scraping ice off her car. I had taken two or three steps past her car when something told me to stop.

I went back to her, hands out, palms to the sky.

”Hi,” I said. “Could I borrow your phone?”

She immediately looked worried.

”Are you okay?” She asked, leaning towards me.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, I'm okay, I’m just stressed because I have a flat tire and I have to get to the airport.”

”Oh! Yes, here is my phone.”

I fumbled with the pamphlet, and she kindly took the phone and dialed the number for me.

The voice on the other end cheerfully gave me advice on how to stay safe if I had been in an accident. After what felt like an eternity she got to the point: make sure to have your registration number with you and we'll be with you in a moment.

I hung up the phone.

”Okay, that is not going to work,” I said as I handed the woman's phone back to her. “I need the registration number, which I don't have and don't know where it is.”

”What are you going to do?” she asked.

I looked her in the eye and said, “I don't know.”

We gazed at each other in silence for a long time.

”You just need to get yourself to the airport,” she said.

Everything clicked into place in that moment.

I just needed to get myself to the airport.

”Is there a bus or...”

”Yes. The tram is to the left up ahead, just past that light; the bus is to the right.

”Should I tram or bus?” I asked

She considered. “I think the tram is better.”

”Okay. Thank you so much!” I said smiling.

”I'm sorry I couldn't help you more.”

”You helped tremendously!”

I walked back to the car, quickly repacked my large Osprey backpack, hefted it onto my shoulders, and headed back towards the tram.

Then I went back and took photos of the car and the crossroad for the rental car company.

Thank you sweet little Fiat!

I did make the plane, with time to spare.

The woman at the rental car counter was kind, and appreciative that I took photos. “We have a branch right there, I'll have them go pick up the car. No worries, go make your plane!”

Total cost of my misadventure: $150 for the tire and a favorite pair of earrings that I left in the cup holder.

Lessons: Turning down my wild a wee bit, gratitude for my courageous willingness to take action even when things looked bleak, and blessings for the wisdom of stillness to listen for next steps.

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Here is a video of from one of my stops on Isle of Lewis, Outer Hebrides; at 30 seconds I zoom in on the van I was staying in; at 1:18 minutes or so you can see the lighthouse. Click on little box on the bottom left to see the video full screen; it is worth it. May the beauty of the Outer Hebrides nourish you as it did me.

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Read about my first flat tire disaster of the year!!!! and the lessons from good obstacles.