Flat Tires = Crazy Betsy
So this morning I feel like being a good girl. I just got back from eating terribly on my vacation and now it's back to the gym time. So I arise 30 minutes earlier than normal to hit the ole gym. I sluggishly head to the car and force myself to epllipticize for 30 minutes. Then I head out of the gym energized to head home to shower and treat myself to Starbucks.
I notice a little thumping but I think it's potholes. Until I pull out onto the street. Nope. For sure not potholes. I pull over and groan. I think, maybe I can make it home, so I make it another block and pull into a bank parking lot. Not. Happening. This is where it goes downhill.
So where is my cell phone? By the bedside table
So where is my husband? In Las Vegas
So where is my spare tire? Buried under necessary items for our move
Sigh.
This leads me to acting like a crazy person and running over to someone at the ATM who apparently thinks some 5' 2" blond in gym clothes is going to rob him (I wasn't even carrying the tire iron at this point). After waving and loudly explaining myself he relinquishes his blackberry to let me call my stepdad. And he answers! Phew!
And then it's Peter to the rescue! He is still home and drives to find me wrenching at the lug nuts on my tire. Fruitlessly I might add. I had high plans of putting on my spare. I will say that I have not changed a tire in 12 years. That's right- the year I started driving and my mom taught me how to do it on her Camaro. Which we broke trying to change the tire. That should have been a sign. I digress. So Peter has an air pumper thing that we use to put more air in the tire so we can limp down to the tire place.
We arrive and since Mr. James usually figures this sort of thing out I have to go through a 10 step process to figure out my warranty. Or should we say non-warranty because we bought the tires for the car right as we were going to sell it. Or we thought we were going to sell it but then I lost my job. Right. So no warranty.
That equals 4 new tires since I apparently don't pay attention to things like heat damage and tire tread wear. James? Where are you?! But Peter is there to advise me so I don't have a total melt down. It's far to early and I've had no coffee and we have to replace all 4 tires?! Sigh. Peter pulls me through and we get it all fixed up.
So now the Acura is the proud owner of 4 new tires with a warranty on each and every one. She is going to get a bath this afternoon to match her new tires. I also decided that I needed to forgo my Starbucks after buying said tires. Sigh again. Stopping at Starbucks would have been a lot cheaper of a morning.
I call said husband when I find my phone. After the first 30 seconds he is silent and I ask him if he's still there. All I get is "Well this story isn't going to have a happy ending." Nope. Not today!
I notice a little thumping but I think it's potholes. Until I pull out onto the street. Nope. For sure not potholes. I pull over and groan. I think, maybe I can make it home, so I make it another block and pull into a bank parking lot. Not. Happening. This is where it goes downhill.
So where is my cell phone? By the bedside table
So where is my husband? In Las Vegas
So where is my spare tire? Buried under necessary items for our move
Sigh.
This leads me to acting like a crazy person and running over to someone at the ATM who apparently thinks some 5' 2" blond in gym clothes is going to rob him (I wasn't even carrying the tire iron at this point). After waving and loudly explaining myself he relinquishes his blackberry to let me call my stepdad. And he answers! Phew!
And then it's Peter to the rescue! He is still home and drives to find me wrenching at the lug nuts on my tire. Fruitlessly I might add. I had high plans of putting on my spare. I will say that I have not changed a tire in 12 years. That's right- the year I started driving and my mom taught me how to do it on her Camaro. Which we broke trying to change the tire. That should have been a sign. I digress. So Peter has an air pumper thing that we use to put more air in the tire so we can limp down to the tire place.
We arrive and since Mr. James usually figures this sort of thing out I have to go through a 10 step process to figure out my warranty. Or should we say non-warranty because we bought the tires for the car right as we were going to sell it. Or we thought we were going to sell it but then I lost my job. Right. So no warranty.
That equals 4 new tires since I apparently don't pay attention to things like heat damage and tire tread wear. James? Where are you?! But Peter is there to advise me so I don't have a total melt down. It's far to early and I've had no coffee and we have to replace all 4 tires?! Sigh. Peter pulls me through and we get it all fixed up.
So now the Acura is the proud owner of 4 new tires with a warranty on each and every one. She is going to get a bath this afternoon to match her new tires. I also decided that I needed to forgo my Starbucks after buying said tires. Sigh again. Stopping at Starbucks would have been a lot cheaper of a morning.
I call said husband when I find my phone. After the first 30 seconds he is silent and I ask him if he's still there. All I get is "Well this story isn't going to have a happy ending." Nope. Not today!
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