The O-ring

My parents and their generation remember where they were when John F. Kennedy was shot.  My generation remembers where we were when the Space Shuttle Challenger burst into flames shortly after liftoff.  Seven souls perished that tragic day when the seal of an O-ring failed. I was baffled that something so seemingly benign could be so disasterous.

Fast forward to September 18, 2015.  I met Aaron who at the time worked at Buddy Stubbs Harley Davidson.  Admittedly, I was seduced by his mechanical prowess.  I loved asking him about his work. The fact that I didn’t understand anything he’d tell me in return didn’t matter; he was sexy when he talked shop.  His most frustrating jobs always involved a reoccurring theme: the infamous O-ring.  

“Seriously, baby, why do we still have those?  Honestly?  

He’d just smile, the dimple on his left cheek making an appearance, melting my heart.

When Aaron became CEO of his own pool business, once again, O-rings took center stage as the main culprit for malfunctioning pool equipment.  

And, an inside joke was born.  

If the TV remote didn’t work I’d ask Aaron to replace the O-ring.  If his razor blade was dull, he’d blame the O-ring.  

“Sweetie, I hoped to have dinner ready for when you got home but the stove O-ring failed....again.  How does Pei Wei sound?”

Fast forward to today.  I walked into the garage to give my motorcycle air compressor one last chance.  Last time I used it in preparation for a ride, I was able to air up the front tire but not the rear; it just wouldn’t receive air.

I walked into the garage and summoned Aaron's help, “Sweetie, I’m giving this one more try...” 

The front tire aired up eliminating the compressor as the problem.  I tried airing up the back tire but it wasn't working -  the gauge needle uselessly flipped around the dial.

I removed the compressor, ran my finger over the top of the valve stem and felt something protruding.  Worrying if I was causing more harm than good, I fished out the rubbery obstruction...

You guessed it.  An O-ring.  

Kneeling by my back tire, I held the tiniest O-ring I have ever seen in my life in the palm of my hand...

And I doubled over in laughter.  I laughed really hard.  And, Aaron was with me; I could  feel him.  I sensed he orchestrated the entire thing.  I pictured him smiling...the dimple in his left cheek making an appearance and melting my heart.   And, my laughter turned to tears. I miss his smile so much.  I miss him so much.   

And there I knelt on my garage floor, crying....

over an O-ring in the palm of my hand.

It's so tiny, it's blurry.  But, no doubt, it's an O-ring.