The food was great.
The games were intense.
The conversation was enjoyable.
Then it was time to leave. Teacher here decided to be responsible and leave at a decent hour so I could get some correcting done.
As I precede to back out of the driveway, I take a sharp turn to get around Little Red Car, and then notice that something isn't quite right.
Why am I leaning awkwardly to the left?
What's the weird plumph plumph plumph sound?
Crap. Bag.
It's a flat tire.
Back inside I go. I must round up the troops.
Now unfortunately, I don't have a BEFORE picture. Can you even believe that?! The tire was actually OFF the rim. Unbelievable. It was my friend, Audrey, who said, "You need to get pictures of this!!" Thank you, Audrey, for lending me your camera so I could document this unfortunate mishap.
I like to refer to the owner of these helping hands as Angel 1. 
Here's Tire. Flat Tire.
Just a few more turns, and VIOLA! You're good to go, Barbie Girl.
So ghetto. Thank God it's dark outside and no one has to see this eyesore of a tire.
Uh, wait just a minute. Is your spare tire flattening before our very eyes? Didn't you complete the preparation check list before you left? Apparently, #17 is "Make sure your spare tire is full of air." Oops.
And back off it comes. Those are the helping hands of Angel 2. 
Angel 1 has removed the tire and sent Angel 2 and Angel 3 to Cenex to fill Spare Tire with air. Approximately 11.2 minutes later, the angels returned and the tire replacement process began yet again.
"OK, now listen, Barbie Girl. You need to go STRAIGHT home. Do not accelerate over 35 miles per hour. The tire should hold through the night. If not, you're screwed. (kidding, they didn't say that last part). Go directly to a tire place in the morning to get this fixed." Yes, my angels. Whatever you say. As I write this, Rega is parked at Zylstra Tire, waiting to have her left front limb reattached. And in the words of Mr. Fix-It, "Your tire is junk". Super. Duper. That is FANTASTIC. Lucky for me, my father is a lover of good tires and sent me two new tires last year as an early birthday present. At the time, my reaction was, "Really Dad? Tires? Do you know me AT ALL???" On a scale from 1 to massage, I have to say that new tires ranked about a -4. Not so much anymore. Today, new tires ranks about a 15. Thank you, Father, for always knowing what I need before I need it. I heart you.
Oh, the wisdom and praticality of Dad...gotta love it!
ReplyDelete(But thank goodness that Mom isn't the same way...)
Um... please tell me that you know how to change your own tire, and that the guys were doing it simply to prove that chivalry is not dead. If you truly don't know how to change a tire, I am coming over to teach you. That's right. Because my dad taught me how to do that when I got my license. He took me out on a back road, at night, in the rain. Because your tire will never go flat in the middle of a sunny day on a road where there is ample room to pull over and change said tire. I'm just sayin'. I am at your service.
ReplyDeleteOh, and I love that you got tires for your birthday. Remember to tell your dad how much you appreciate him, as often as possible.
It's too bad the tires weren't wrapped in a genuine leather case and delivered by a man wearing buckskin. On a scale of 1 to massage? :)
I'm so happy you got your gap back! You even surprised me! I thought it was going to be about something else! My dad gave me tires for my birthday once too!
ReplyDelete