|Posted on March 7, 2019 at 1:55 AM||comments (0)|
Monday was definitely a Monday.
It's been awhile since I forgot my car in a tow zone, so Life decided to give me a flat. It was a result of hitting one of approximately 8 million potholes left by salt, rampant temperature variances, and snowplows. For days, my car's "low tire pressure" light nagged at me. I was certain it was just the cold causing a false indicator, until I left work and saw that it was flatter than a Keanu Reeves line reading.
Since I'm not much stronger than I was in my 20s, I called for roadside service. The dispatcher's lovely Irish accent was the best part of this experience, because as soon as the shockingly under-dressed mechanic appeared to change the tire, I discovered I had no spare. I must have gotten a flat some other time and forgotten to replace it. Better yet: thanks to staying late at work writing, it was now 15 minutes after the close of every tire store in the area.
I should have brought the kid a thermos of Tullamore, because as soon as this transaction was complete, I was hitting that shit like a punching bag. Sharing is caring.
Loosening the bolts was always the hardest part; the rest is pie. Once he did that, I sent him on his way. $74 (plus $20 tip for the inconvenience) to loosen some bolts. Two more fingers, neat, please!
One problem remains: getting a new tire home without paying for yet another assistance call. They only weigh about 20 pounds, but they're unwieldy.
Firestone is only 2 miles away.
The solution is clear. Wish me luck.