In last night's post, I mentioned that I would explain why my feet were extra cold when I got home from class. Twas because of my Flat! Tire!
I had decided to park in a different lot, hoping it would get me closer to the building my class is held in. As I hurried away from my car, arms full of books, I heard a distinct and unmistakable sound. The object which had impaled my tire was conveniently located at the top for proper examination and to allow a mad rush of air to escape.
Unable to get a hold of my fiance, I went off to class, knowing full well that my tire would be flat as a pancake by the time I returned. I was late to class (ugh) and then excused myself not long into it to talk to him on my cell and explain where my car was and to tell him what time to meet me (since I was in possession of the only keys to my vehicle).
When I got back to my car, he had already removed the flat and promptly made quick work of installing the donut in its place. Then I had the experience of driving on a donut for the first time all the way home. It actually didn't feel that different, but it still made me nervous. He followed me home and then took my flat off to the gas station where he patched and filled it.
It seems to be holding air and got me to work this morning. Hopefully, it will continue to be secure, so I can avoid buying a new tire. Maybe I'll go check it during lunch, so if there's a problem I can call for help before I get out of work.
And if you're thinking I should've just changed my own damn tire, why? Having him do it makes us both happy. He gets to be the hero, and I get to not have to put forth the effort and to stay clean and relatively warm. Win, win.
5 comments:
I'd have my husband do it too! Glad everything went as smoothly as possible in that situation!
You should have drove it to the station to get it fixed. Aferall, it was only flat on the bottom.
Well, all is well that ends well, I guess. Mark sure is handy! I see no reason why you should have done all that yourself... you had class to attend, after all. Plus, from what I know of Mark, I am sure being the hero made him genuinely happy. He's down with chivalry.
I drove 30 miles on a donut to get new tires after getting a flat in rural Michigan. I found the experience rather frightening. I was scared to drive much above 40 mph, but it was a country highway, and even with the flasher going, people don't appreciate those speeds. I have had patched tires last for years; hopefully you will, too.
The last burning question: did you excuse yourself en francaise?
YAY! Yay for a handy partner and an all's well that ends well. Sorry about the mini ordeal but glad it all worked out!
I used to be big on changing my own tires and proving what an independent woman I was but now I am happy to have Keith take care of me in those wasys--it makes us both happy as I am sure it did Mark and you. :-D
Hell yeah, why do it yourself when you can get someone else to do it? Especially if the bill comes in the form of a romp in bed. Whoo-hoo!
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