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.