Flat Tire

Sunday night I was on the phone with P and needed to go to the grocery store. When I got in my car I noticed it sounded funny when I was driving…there was a faint thump. I told him that it’s what I imagine a flat tire would sound like. He told me I should stop and check. I was less than a block from home though, so I just checked it when I got there. All my tires were fine. Not even low. Then Monday, George and I decided to go to the outlet mall. As we were getting on the highway we heard this weird pop noise, but that was it so we didn’t think much of it. My car drove fine and when we got to the mall, again, all my tires were fine. We diid our shopping and checked things out and decided to go to Double Dave’s for lunch. Not so fast.

When we got out to my car my rear, driver’s side tire was flat. Not kinda flat. Flat flat. Ok, fine, get the spare out of the trunk, put it on, go to Discount Tire where it’s guaranteed and get it fixed, then go to Double Dave’s for lunch. Get the spare tire out, it’s not flat. Good. Tools. Where are the tools? No tools to be had in my car. One of two things happened to them. When I got hit in April and my car got fixed either they took them or Dad took them out for some reason this summer when they had my car. Either was I had no way to get my lugnuts off. I freaked out for a minute and thought my locking lugnut key was with them. Thank God it was in my glove compartment.

So I called Dad to ask him what to do. He said to go ask the mall if they had a security guard who could come help me. They called this old, Barney Fife looking man who came out and was no help, but delightfully condescending. He was such an ass to me and wouldn’t help. He said if he helped and messed up my car I’d want to sue him, sue the mall, the owners, etc. I hate people like that. Then he kept asking me stupid questions and treating me like I was retarted. I wanted to tell him I was fine, I’d figure it out, could he please leave. Grr. While he was being no help and we were trying to figure out what to do this country guy walked by and asked if we needed any help. We said yes and explained that we had nothing to change the tire with. We tried his wrench, but it was way too big for my lugnuts. He, however, had wrenches in the tool box in the bed of his truck. Yes! He used a socket wrench to fit over my lugnuts and a regular wrench with the round end hooked around the handle of the socket wrench for some leverage. He broke one socket wrench and after about 20 minutes got the lugnuts loose with another. Then he used the wrench to raise the jack, because the rod you use to raise that was also not in my car. Wtf?!?

While he was changing trying unsuccessfully to get the lugnuts off (it took him probably 30 minutes) George called AAA, which she is a member of and I’m not. They were on their way when he got them loosened. She called and cancelled them. Mom called me right when we were trying to figure out what to do and was asking me questions about the trumpet I played in high school. I didn’t know the answers to her questions and didn’t care to think about it. I was getting really annoyed with her unending questions and finally snapped at her. I told her I didn’t know, I didn’t care and that I had a flat tire and had to go. I’d call later. Goodbye.

Once we got the lugnuts off the tire still wouldn’t come off. I called Dad and asked him how to get it off. He asked how we got the lugnuts off. I said, “there’s a man with a really big wrench here helping us.” George looked at me and busted out laughing, then the man (whose name we never asked) laughed. I think Dad was trying not to. I didn’t catch what I had said until later. Dad said there was probably rust build up between the wheel and whatever else. He said to kick it at 3 or 9 o’clock and that should loosen it up. I told him I wasn’t wearing shoes I could kick something in. He asked what I was wearing and I said little ballet slipper looking things. Again, I got laughed at. The man gave me a really weird look. Whatever. He told me to turn around and kick it with my heel. “Oh, like a horse would kick you?” Again…weird looks. Haha. Whatever, we got off the phone, kicked the tire and off it came. The man said, “Daddy knows.” and that was that. He put the spare on for us and we thanked him profusely. Yay.

George followed me back to my place where we picked up her truck. The whole way here I couldn’t go more than 50 but had to take the highway. I sure did have a long ass line of traffic behind me. It was quite entertaining. We got her truck, dropped my car off, and went and got pizza. The buffet had just begun. Woohoo! Good timing. At 6 we went back and got my car and that was that. Long day.


One response to “Flat Tire

  1. Too bad you didn’t have a tire iron to beat Barney Fife with.

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