For a moment I almost opted to not share the following story with the interwebs. I was going to chalk it up to another 'dumb girl' moment, and move on. But, if my own idiocy can help at least one person out there, then my feelings of stupidity shall not have been in vain.
Allow me to back track.
It was Monday morning. I was once again running late to get to work. For the past while, I've been fortunate enough to time my travels right to the last second, and have been able to log in just on time. This day, I knew I'd be pushing it a teensy-weensy bit, so there was no time to fiddle with the radio dial, sunglasses, or my lint brush. I put the car in gear and applied pressure to the gas. The car lurched a bit. And it had a bit of a strange noise. I was concerned, yes, but, again, was running late. I immediately assumed there was something terribly wrong - possibly a belt, or perhaps even a problem with my transmission. It just felt really bogged down and sloggy. I made it to work, late by 2 minutes, and immediately did the only thing I felt I could do about the situation: I emailed the boy.
Of course, having not actually driven the car himself, and basing his diagnosis on my feeble attempt at a technical description of the morning events ("it just felt...boggy..."), he remained puzzled as well. I admit, I didn't read too much concern between the lines, either. I, on the other hand, had a mild case of the poops, going through inner turmoil at the very thought of the car having something terribly wrong with it, and the possibility of getting stranded in the middle of ongoing traffic. Add to that a dead cell phone in my purse, and slight reservations on even being able to pop the hood since I drive a German car with a strangely complicated latch to open the hood. Even the guy at the gas station can attest to that. I personally have yet to successfully open it myself.
So, I suggested to the boy that perhaps he wouldn't mind taking a stop into my work during his lunch hour to take it for a drive. I knew deep down that as soon as he witnessed what I'd witnessed, he'd immediately know what to do, or, at least he'd fill me with the confidence to simply take it to the dealership. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect, and actually ignored my message. I worried that he'd not come by. Thankfully, he's a bit of an amazing sort of guy, and he did come to my rescue, after all. I walked up to him perched on the back of his own vehicle. He was browsing his iPod, and waiting. He was waiting for me, yes, but he was also waiting for my tire to inflate.
Yes, folks, tire. I had a flat tire. It wasn't a belt. It wasn't the transmission. I had a flat tire. Apparently, your car doesn't tend to move forward very smoothly with a square wheel. Luckily, I didn't damage the tire or the rim while I rode from the 'hood to work....
Moral of the story: the little 'once around' that they teach you at drivers ed? Turns out it's actually useful. Make sure your tires aren't low before embarking on a journey.
Oh, and I bought him lunch for his trouble. Love you honey...xoxo.
1 comment:
I did this once as well... I now make it a point to look at all four tires before I pull away. It takes a couple extra seconds but could save hours of frustation followed by a lifetime of ribbing from friends (and my mother).
Post a Comment