The plan was to go to the gym after work on Friday. But Mom emailed and asked if I’d like to go for a tea. That always sounds better than going to the gym so… off I went.
We had a delightful date but when I got in the car and started to drive home and I felt the car shaking – and like the tire was flapping in the breeze. I reparked the car. I got out and found this
Here’s the thing. I work at a women’s centre. I tell women to be prepared. To be independent. To not put themselves in dangerous situations. To not rely on others – male or otherwise. I’m a hypocrite.
I have NO idea how to change a tire. NO IDEA. It’s not getting the tire off – I know that’s the struggle for most women, (we tend not to be strong enough to get the bolts loose – and at the centre we recommend that women have a rubber mallet in their trunks to whack the wrench). I can’t even get myself to that point. I don’t know how to work a jack. No idea.
So I called the Boy. He came to get me. When he got there he looked at the FLAT tire and after serious consideration of just leaving the car in the parking lot for the night – he busted out the emergency air compressor and blew up the tire.
It seemed to be working so he decided we would drive the car home and deal with getting a new tire over the weekend.
Then he said something simply ridiculous.
“Okay, so drive it home and I’ll meet you there.”
Ummmm…. what? No. I told him – you drive it home, it’s dangerous I’ll drive the safe car and you drive the sketchy car – it is YOUR car after all.
His response? “But the seat is set for you!”
Because that’s impossible to fix.
What a boy.
He drove it home and I followed and when we got home – we listened to the air we JUST put in the tire rush out like a deflating balloon.
We can’t put it off any longer… we need new tires. And I can’t put it off any longer – I YouTube’d it and learned how to change a tire.