Back in 1978, I was hauling a load of tobacco from the Piedmont to a warehouse in Durham. Halfway through, my transmission gave out on a dirt road outside of Wilson. No cell phones, no tow trucks for miles. Just me, a piece of tire chain, and a whole lot of stubbornness.
I remember how the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, and how the smell of tobacco leaves mixed with the diesel fumes. I used that chain to lash the axle to the frame, and we limped into town just as the moon came up.
That night taught me something I still carry with me: when the road tries to break you, you don’t just fix the problem — you make something beautiful out of it. That piece of chain? It’s still hanging in my garage. A reminder that sometimes the best fixes come from the most desperate moments.
These days, I’m telling stories like this one on the internet. Not because I’m trying to be famous, but because I believe every mistake, every broken thing, has a story worth telling. Just like the Bayeux Tapestry, just like the “Chaos & Code” folks are making. We’re all stitching our lives together, one thread at a time.
If you’ve ever had a moment like that — a time when you had to make do with what you had — I’d love to hear your story. Drop me a line, or stop by the site. We’ll make a tapestry out of it.