I've mentioned before that I've had trouble with the air in my tires. They don't stay inflated very well.
About two weeks ago, Ben sent me in to Wal-Mart to have them re-seal the tires to the rims and get my tires rotated. It was the night I had plans for an after-work drink with a co-worker and a client at a restaurant right next to the Wal-Mart. How convenient. I dropped my car off and went on my merry way to enjoy some good conversation and an Irresistible Itch (don't ask me what that is, but it was the drink special for the night and it was quite good. AND it came with a free back scratcher. Can anyone say jackpot?!?).
When I got back to Wal-Mart to get the car, I found it jacked up in the garage, minus a tire.
I assumed they just weren't done yet.
I got inside, and there was a herd of Wal-Mart mechanics standing in a circle and gossiping. It looked like they were discussing the latest shenanigans on Real Housewives of Orange County.
Instead, apparently they were discussing my car.
Specifically, my one tire.
They called me over and explained that they couldn't put the back right tire back on and they couldn't rotate it because it was in BAD SHAPE.
Something about the belts on the inside.
It looked like it had been driven on while it was flat.
[Cue accusatory stares from gaggle of Wal-Mart mechanics.]
Well, okay, maybe I DID drive on it while it was flat, but it was unintentional and it's because my tires keep going flat and THAT IS THE REASON WHY I BROUGHT IT IN HERE FOR YOU TO WORK ON IT.
At any rate, they threw some strongly worded phrases at me about really being unable to do anything about this except sell me a new tire, unless I wanted to go against all their worldly advice and have them put the tire back on and drive back home and probably have it blow out on the way home and I would most likely lose control of the car and probably run over a couple small children and maybe a squirrel.
I tried to call Ben but he wasn't answering his cell phone. So I tried again. And again. About forty-six times.
Finally, I made the call. Go ahead, Wal-Mart people, sell me a tire. I picked the middle of the road one because, hello, I'm not a sucker but I am also not a cheapskate.
I drove home. Told Ben the story. He was less than pleased.
That tire has a warranty on it.
Oh. I didn't know that. Well, the tire is in my trunk. And it still probably has a warranty on it, right? I mean, we can still have the tire place fix it and then we just end up with an extra tire. That's not that bad, is it?
So, they didn't rotate the tires. Did they at least re-seal the other ones? The ones that they didn't sucker you into replacing?
Ummm. Gee. I kind of forgot about that. I don't think they did. I mean, they were too busy stressing out about what kind of idiot driver drives on a flat tire and then brings it in to get rotated.
So, after all that drama, I still had the same air-leakage problem on the remaining three tires.
We hadn't quite gotten around to solving that problem yet (and by we, I mean Ben, because I think I've successfully demonstrated that I simply can't be trusted to handle anything but the most basic car issues, like perhaps resetting the trip odometer or changing the CD in the CD player) when Ben noted last week that my tires were low again. I had intended to fill them with air in the evening, but forgot. So the next morning, after dropping the kids off at my mom's, I stopped at a gas station on my way to work and filled up the three old tires with air.
As it turns out, that day, I had a mid-morning meeting with a client about an hour away. I was to meet a co-worker at the toll road plaza and we were going to head over together.
So at about 9:00, I headed out to my car, and backed out of my parking spot. I put the car in Drive and inched forward.
I immediately knew something was wrong.
I stopped the car and got out. My front driver's side tire was flat. I mean FLAT. Dead as a doornail.
I was in the parking garage, which goes around and around in endless circles, and barely has enough space for two cars to pass each other. I couldn't really stay where I was blocking multiple cars, so I crept forward looking for the next available spot in the garage, cursing all the gym rats that were taking up the Memorial Health and Lifestyle spots that are normally empty.
On my way, a gentleman who was exiting the gym motioned at me, and hollered, "YOU HAVE A FLAT TIRE!!"
I knew that already.
The bad news?
He was motioning at my front passenger side tire.
Yes, it's true, my friends. TWO of my tires were totally flat.
(Oh, and also, I apparently need a car wash)
I made it down to the next floor and parked in a spot reserved for Bank of America customers.
Screw you, Bank of America, I'm pretty sure you had something to do with ruining the economy anyway, so I don't care if your valued customer can't find a stinking parking spot right now. This is an EMERGENCY.
I really had no idea what to do from there, so I headed back to my office. Called my co-worker and explained that I had a flat tire (I didn't have the energy to explain that what I actually had was multiple flat tires) and that I wouldn't make it to the meeting. Briefed him on my part of the project and promised him I'd be available by conference call should the need arise.
Tried to get a hold of Ben. No luck on the cell phone so I sent him an e-mail alerting him to my two, count 'em TWO, flat tires and asking for help.
In the meantime, I sat at my desk and marveled about how on EARTH this could have happened.
Two flat tires? I mean, yes, they have been losing air, but they don't generally go ALL the way flat. And I had JUST filled them up at SEVEN-FORTY-FIVE that morning. How does this happen?!
Ben had the same sentiment.
Are you sure you filled them up?
Yes, I'm quite sure it was MY tires to which I hooked up the air hose this morning. I mean, I'm kind of an idiot but even I know what a valve stem looks like. It's not like I pumped air into the radiator.
Did you run over one of those spike things? Like, you went the wrong way through something?
What?? No, I drove the same route to work I always do. I didn't run over any spikey things, and no, the police weren't chasing after me, either.
But, true to form, Ben saved the day. He showed up at work with two air compressors, which we had to surreptitiously charge mid-way through in an electrical outlet in my parking garage.
Once we had the tires filled back up, I followed him out to Tire Rack, where we had purchased the tires. They tested them and cleaned them and did something else to them that I really can't remember.
So, I think we're good now.
Oh, and they found a screw that had punctured the tire that was in my trunk, the one Wal-Mart insisted I replace. Warranty - VOID.
Just my luck.
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