Broken Wheel, Full Circle

"The guard dogs - Great Pyrenees - were the first to notice the small, vintage black automobile stop on the road that ran through their little valley.

The young Son of the Tinker family stopped his chores for the humble hamlet he had helped build and walked to the edge of the road to greet the occupant of the stopped vehicle. A man got out of the machine and pointed at his wheel, the tire of which had come apart. He explained that he had no spare. He then looked at the son's peaceful face and quietly asked if there was a chance the Son's family might have an old one he could borrow to return later or buy.

The Son said he would see what he could do. The Son did his duty by reporting the situation to his crippled Father who had limped out of the small Tavern there. The son did not ask if he could give a wheel to the stranger; he did not have to. Hospitality was their way, a core tenet of their simple faith.

The Father hobbled to the roadside and greeted the stranger. The Father assured the man that they would look to see if a wheel or tire could be found. He made no promises as the automobile was an uncommon one and it was unlikely that there would be one unclaimed.

The Father considered the wheel of one of the village's wagons, but that would be a last resort. It would be done if needed. The Father headed to the barn of the younger Mechanic who had replaced the Father as such some years before; their relationship was good, so much so that The Father's tools were open to the Mechanic as necessary. The modern world needed a Mechanic, not a Tinker and Smith. Yet, there were moments when the old ways still mattered. The broken wheel would need an eye for an older repair.

The Father and Son searched the back of the barn where the spare parts were stored. They found one possibility, not the one the Father wanted. It was very close in size to the broken one. The Son took it to the man and started helping him try to make the change and repair.

The Father wrestled through the pile of parts, fatiguing swiftly but determined to find what his hazy memory seemed to know: there was a better choice there in the stacks. He had not always been so frail, but his once sturdy form had been cut down by an illness of the heart and lungs just the winter past. He flipped one more wheel and there it was: a wheel and tire. The Father picked it up with a feeling of elation, and lugged it out to the road.

The man was visibly grateful and profuse with thanks. He tried to offer money, but both the Son and Father refused. The Father headed back to the Tavern as the Son offered to stay and help the man.

A little time later, the dogs began to bark again. The Father glanced out of the window to see the Son helping the man roll the vehicle down the trail into the commons of the little settlement. He wobbled back outside as the Son came trotting up.

The Son explained to his Father that the first wheel had a small flaw that made it useless. To make the second work, they would need to move two of the stranger's wheels. The Son continued to explain that the man's few tools were breaking, inappropriate, or inadequate for the task at hand. The Father shuffled over to the man to see if he could help. The Son went to fetch tools from both the Smithy's and Mechanic's shops.

The Son helped the man - who turned out to be a pretty fair hand with tools - find a combination of positions that would allow the second spare wheel to be mounted. The Father pointed out the size differential between the front and rear wheels due to clearance during use and operation of the vehicle. The Father reached in a hand or a word from time to time to help. While doing this, he got to know the man, as was his way.

The man was a Forester by profession, and had recently relocated from his home state's forests to the one above the little valley. He was getting older and wanted to see more of the world before he was too old.

The work continued and soon the conveyance was ready to roll back out down the road. The man again tried to offer recompense but was refused. The Father reminded the man that all folk find themselves in such a way and help will come, and it will come because each of us know that what we need cannot be paid back, but can only be paid forward.

The Father offered his hand and the man took it. The Father introduced himself, and the man who was no longer a stranger did the same. The man drove his automobile back up the trail to the road with one last wave.

The Son went back to his chores, as did the Father. Before they did, they put the tools and equipment away that they had used. The Father told the Son that for over a dozen years he had kept that tire and wheel around. He was not even sure where it had come from as it was just there one day in the stacks. From time he had considered trading it to someone else, but had never followed through with those plans for one reason or another. Even when when Family had made the harsh, mid-winter move to this valley, that wheel and tire had come along.

The Son said he thought that perhaps today was the reason the wheel had been retained. The Father said that maybe that made sense. Each of them then moved on to other projects.

As the Father worked he pondered how the world sees things. Before, he had often spoken up to try to change the world, but now he only tried to change himself... and that was often as not in silence.

He knew the world, and the nearby communities saw the little homestead as less, as something poor in material wealth. To some degree, he even considered part of their assessment as accurate. Yet, it was neither just nor complete; it was not understood, only judged.

He pondered the fancy houses and bustling towns in the region. They had many nice things, magical things of wonder. They held power through these treasures and were held as the betters of the clan of Tinkers who built their world with their hands. The Father mused to himself that maybe they were right.

The Father looked up from his work to see his youngest Daughter. He immediately knew those other people were wrong in some ways. He and his kin were a goodness in the world, and they had value beyond any assessment for they had wealth of a broadly unique type and kind.

None of those fancy houses or important people had the odd wheel in their possession. They did not understand working outside of the normal avenues of approach. Those houses did not have an old man and a boy, their wealth not in vaults but in hands, head, and heart. Those houses did not have the time to spend helping an impoverished roving Forester repair his aging and rare vehicle.

The Father knew you could buy much with sparkling treasure, but he doubted you could ever buy an honest handshake of equals as they met and moved on during the odyssey of life. You could not buy the pride of a Father for his Son serving his fellow man without thought of fame, fortune, or fate. The Father knew that as he wrote the account of the occurrence, his Son would behave with a shy humility and self-consciousness to be envied for its purity.

He told his Daughter his thoughts. She smiled and told him he should be proud of himself, too. The Father felt a shy humility and self-consciousness that was dented and scratched, mended and bent.

Yet, he still felt it.

Where the Forester will end up is not known, nor is it known that he will ever pass by the place where the wheel broke. For the Father, a different manner of broken wheel had come full circle."

-- J.R.H.