Practice on Monday, one of our jammers leaves the track and is gone for a while. There are a few other people crowded around her; I go up because I am nosy.
"I think one of my trucks broke," she says as she's taking apart her skate.
"I've got a spare," I say.
"A spare truck?" she asks.
"Yup. In my skate box there." I point to my typewriter case.
She opens it, and takes out the spare truck I've had in there ever since someone lent it to me to see if that's why my wheels kept falling off all the time. (It wasn't.) She puts it on her skate and goes merrily on her way.
YAY ME.
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