Yesterday was crazy! I finally feel like I'm being productive at work. I processed claims and mailed letters. I like my new job a lot better than my old one. There's more to do and it's more complicated. Plus there's lots of math involved, so that makes me happy. I walk out to the parking garage and get in my car. Now, the night before I went over to the boys' apartment to do the usual post-show analysis. Which was sad, b/c we won't be doing that anymore. I stayed kinda late, and I was tired most of Friday. That morning, there was no hot water, and I just couldn't do a cold shower. So instead of taking a nap before the shows like I wanted to, I was going to have to shower and dry my shirt (i had washed it that morning). Anyway, as I'm backing out of my parking space, my car is making a really weird noise. Am I running over something? No. My tire is flat. And not just a little bit. The weird noise was my rim on the ground.
Great.
Super.
I've never changed a flat before, and this was definitely going to cut into the 8 o'clock show. I remember hearing at some point that you're supposed to tighten the lug nuts in a particular order. I had no idea what that order was. So I call my dad. no answer. mom? nope. uncle? huh-uh. aunt? nada. What is the point of having cell phones, people?!? I call David, but he has no idea. He advises me to call Jeff, because although Jeff has never actually changed a tire, he probably has some sort of documentation on how to do it. Which is hysterical if you know Jeff. He is so cerebral, and not very hands on. So the fact that he's read a book on how to change a flat, but has never actually done it makes perfect sense. When I call he says he might have something in his car, so he goes to look. Which then made me think of my owner's manual. Of course! There has to be something in there about flats. And there is.
I was very glad it was casual Friday, b/c I would have been pissed to ruin dress pants.
I get my spare donut out of the trunk, along with a dinky jack. I take off the lug nuts, which are screwed on so tightly I actually have to stand on the tool to loosen them. I get the bolts off, but now I can't get my tire off. After much struggling, it finally comes. I put the wee little new tire back on. A few people have offered their assistance, but I'm handling it pretty well and am all proud of myself, so i say no thanks. I probably would have said yes to one of the hottie lawyers from the third floor, however. OK, so I'm tightening the lug nuts on the spare, and the jack gives. Thank goodness my feet or fingers weren't in the way. That would have been bad. Well, the spare is on, but my jack is broken. And I can't see anything wrong with my flat other than it has absolutely no air in it.
At this point I need to get a new tire. I drive so much and JesterZ and where I live are on opposite sides of the valley. My plan was to go home, wash my blackened hands and forearms (and chin, I was later to discover), and hit Walmart for a new tire and jack. Well, it's 6 o'clock, and places are closing. I happen to pass a Discount Tire 5 minutes before they lock their doors. I walk in, hair disheveled, arms dirty as hell, pants ruined. They take one look at me and shake their heads. "Where are you parked?" It was nice that they skipped the whole, "How can I help you" bit. It was pretty obvious. But all of the guys seemed impressed that I had changed my own tire. Which surprised me. But that's the reaction pretty much everyone had. My aunt was all proud. So were Mindy and Brandey. I felt very independent.
By the time I got home and clean, it was 8. Jef said the shows were covered, and he'd just see me for Saturday's.
Oh, the Discount Tire guys said there was a hole that was easily patchable, which they did for free as I waited. I still need to get a new jack, just in case I ever need it again.
I've taken a shower and washed my hands several times, but two of my fingertips are still dirty.
Great.
Super.
I've never changed a flat before, and this was definitely going to cut into the 8 o'clock show. I remember hearing at some point that you're supposed to tighten the lug nuts in a particular order. I had no idea what that order was. So I call my dad. no answer. mom? nope. uncle? huh-uh. aunt? nada. What is the point of having cell phones, people?!? I call David, but he has no idea. He advises me to call Jeff, because although Jeff has never actually changed a tire, he probably has some sort of documentation on how to do it. Which is hysterical if you know Jeff. He is so cerebral, and not very hands on. So the fact that he's read a book on how to change a flat, but has never actually done it makes perfect sense. When I call he says he might have something in his car, so he goes to look. Which then made me think of my owner's manual. Of course! There has to be something in there about flats. And there is.
I was very glad it was casual Friday, b/c I would have been pissed to ruin dress pants.
I get my spare donut out of the trunk, along with a dinky jack. I take off the lug nuts, which are screwed on so tightly I actually have to stand on the tool to loosen them. I get the bolts off, but now I can't get my tire off. After much struggling, it finally comes. I put the wee little new tire back on. A few people have offered their assistance, but I'm handling it pretty well and am all proud of myself, so i say no thanks. I probably would have said yes to one of the hottie lawyers from the third floor, however. OK, so I'm tightening the lug nuts on the spare, and the jack gives. Thank goodness my feet or fingers weren't in the way. That would have been bad. Well, the spare is on, but my jack is broken. And I can't see anything wrong with my flat other than it has absolutely no air in it.
At this point I need to get a new tire. I drive so much and JesterZ and where I live are on opposite sides of the valley. My plan was to go home, wash my blackened hands and forearms (and chin, I was later to discover), and hit Walmart for a new tire and jack. Well, it's 6 o'clock, and places are closing. I happen to pass a Discount Tire 5 minutes before they lock their doors. I walk in, hair disheveled, arms dirty as hell, pants ruined. They take one look at me and shake their heads. "Where are you parked?" It was nice that they skipped the whole, "How can I help you" bit. It was pretty obvious. But all of the guys seemed impressed that I had changed my own tire. Which surprised me. But that's the reaction pretty much everyone had. My aunt was all proud. So were Mindy and Brandey. I felt very independent.
By the time I got home and clean, it was 8. Jef said the shows were covered, and he'd just see me for Saturday's.
Oh, the Discount Tire guys said there was a hole that was easily patchable, which they did for free as I waited. I still need to get a new jack, just in case I ever need it again.
I've taken a shower and washed my hands several times, but two of my fingertips are still dirty.
posted by a c at
9:54 AM
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