On Tires

Good afternoon and welcome to another week of Home Alone.  

Reflecting over the recent three day weekend and my activities pertaining thereto, I have come to a conclusion.  One of the last things a social basket case should be doing is purchasing car tires.  I say "one of" because there are loads of other things a social basket case should not do - e.g. attend a musical dinner theatre where you are seated at big group tables and are positioned so conspicuously near the stage that it seems as if the entire cast, while they try not to trip over your chair, are scream-singing "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General" to you alone.  But, back to tires, not only are car tires the absolute limit as far as boring goes, they are needlessly complicated. 

I find it's always good practice to begin a crisis by involving others, so the first thing I did when I heard the car making an odd, whiny sound was to drive immediately to the parent's house (remember, they live just down the street).  I commandeered their afternoon by parking my injured vehicle in their driveway then wailing about something being drastically wrong with my car.  My dad, whose acute vision capabilities I thought I had inherited, ascertained in about two seconds that one of my tires was flat.  

This was far better news than I had imagined on my long, fourteen-second drive to their home.  I had conjured up dire images of the engine mangling itself into irreparable shreds and/or (I'm versatile in my imagined doom) the entire transmission hanging by a thin metal thread, simply waiting to fall out of the underside of the vehicle.  But it was just a tire.  I merely needed air, and everything would be great* again. 

However, this tire needed a great deal more than air.  Both my dad and the auto service team at the tire store determined that this tire (along with its three counterparts) desperately needed some tread.  And tread matters.  The primary salesman I dealt with told me that not having enough tread is considered unsafe and hazardous and even risky.  This meant a lot coming from someone who was so tatted up I couldn't take my eyes off his neck (it either said "Patty" or "Pasty"- probably Patty), and who had some sort of toxic automotive grease smeared all over his face.

So I reluctantly bought new tires.  But not until I had added some levity to my salesman's day by asking as he showcased the latest and greatest in tire technology, "Would it be possible to show me my options in a good, better, and best format?"  He found this amusing, but kindly did sort my choices for me so I could make a decision.  I hope he got a nice commission.

 

 *Things in my world are considered "great" if they are all doing exactly what I have determined they ought to be doing at the precise time I want them to do it; in this case, the car needed to be driving me around where I wanted to go right then. 

 

Comments

[Spelman21]

Once again, you slay me Sarah. Hilarious! Tires are a pain. And your definition of *great* is the same as mine. Keep writing baby!

[Rbancroft6]

Sarah I know EXACTLY how you feel. Dan and I had a similar experience with a flat tire. Although we were about an hour and a half from our home on what was supposed to be a relaxing and fun Sunday hike. So it was difficult to involve anyone else in our crisis (which would have been my first response as well!) Luckily the Costco tire center is open Sundays and they not only fixed our tire for free, but they also gave Lola and Sasha a fun little ride on the hydraulic car lifter thingy! ahhhh tires...always a fun experience.

[Sarah B.]

Thanks, Michelle!

Rachel, I'm sorry that happened to you all. Good grief! Was that just this weekend, too? I bet the girls liked the ride up the lifter! This is another reason why you need to relocate - to be near people who can come to your rescue. : )