The bike wasn’t broken.
It was just upside down in the driveway getting worked on.
That was the rule back then. If something quit, you didn’t immediately replace it. You dragged it to the garage, found the toolbox, and waited for Dad to say, “Let’s see what’s wrong with it.”
A flat tire became a whole lesson.
Find the leak.
Scuff the tube.
Add the patch.
Pump it back up.
Spin the wheel and hope it held.
And if you were the kid sitting there watching, you weren’t just waiting to ride again. You were learning that things could be fixed if you slowed down, paid attention, and didn’t give up the second something went wrong.