I was leaving Emporia today after my last class of the day, so ready to be at home relaxing... I came down the hill Northeast of campus, heard a noise, then my van started wobbling. I pulled into the nearest parking lot to get out and inspect the situation. Most of the time I wouldn't know what a vehicle-related problem looked like if it hit me in the face. This one did. I had a giant hole in my rear passenger tire. Sonofa....
My first instinct, though he was an hour away and would be of no use to me, was to call Drew and rip him a new one for letting my tires get so bad. This is exactly what I did. He explained to me that everything I needed to change the tire was in the van and where the spare was located. Excuse me, honey...While I appreciate the vote of confidence, I'm not changing this stupid thing by myself!
My next move was to call my well-meaning husband useless and hang up on him. Time to give my mechanically-inclined sister a ring. I always assumed I could let her learn important life lessons like tire-changing for me...then call her when I needed help. WRONG. After trying her roughly eight times, just to make sure she wasn't ignoring me, I decided she must be working.
Out of options and kicking myself for not knowing more big, burly, conveniently located males, I set out for the Highway Patrol headquarters on campus. I found a couple willing volunteers and got to ride in a police car back to my van. I wanted to ride in back, just for fun, but how do you explain that to a cop without seeming weird?
I learned a few important life lessons from these officers.
1. If you have a lisence, you should know how to change a tire. (Funny, I don't remember that being on the test.)
2. The jack is hidden in the most ridiculous place in the vehicle.
3. The spare is conveniently located under my van.
4. My belly is conveniently large enough to keep me from getting to the spare.
I don't care how many times I see this feat accomplished, I will NEVER be able to change a tire by myself.
Next, I headed to Walmart tire center to get new tires. I parked out beside the garages and started to go inside, until I got yelled at to go drive through the "service lane" and stay in my vehicle. It may not sound like a big deal, but believe me, this guy was really rude about it. I waited 30 minutes in the service lane before a "customer representative" came to "service" me. I told him I wanted to price two tires for my van, and he told me I shouldn't be in that lane unless I'm sure I wanted serviced. Seriously? Any other day I would have had a great comeback for him. My new instructions were to park right where I had the first time, then go inside for a quote. He was, again, "rude". I may be sensitive (or hormonal?), but it sure seems like everyone is out to get me today. As I politely told him I was going elsewhere for my tires, I was acting out a scene from Pretty Woman in my head. "BIG MISTAKE. BIG. HUGE."
I dropped my van off at the gas station here in Gridley, gave them the readers digest version of my story, and walked home. So much for relaxing a bit today.
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