Ah, Tuesday. The day of Tues. What does this all mean? Well it isn’t Monday and we are still in the first half of the week. Gross. I am not a fan of Tuesdays. So instead of beating my head against the thin walls of my cubicle and risk distracting anyone else in my office, I have tried to think of something funny that has happened to me that I would like to share. I have come up with exactly one thing. I am not feeling especially creative or nostalgic today, I apologize.
I would like to share how not to change a tire. My best friend in college called me one snowy nasty day, utterly freaking, that she blew a tire. I am pretty sure school was actually closing at this point and since she did not live on campus, she had to make the harrowing trek back to her apartment. Welp. She called me in a frenzy asking for help. How could I say no? I mean, really? How hard can it be to change a tire-in a snowstorm?
Let me preface this by saying she had a cute little VW bug and had 0% handy-man in her. Also, let me just tell you I had never changed a tire and had no idea what the hell I was doing. Ok, so put two 21 year old girls in a snow storm, add a flat tire, take away common sense, and add in the fact that I had somewhere to be in less than an hour. Where would you start? Aha! I thought to myself, you need a new tire to fix an old tire. Find it. After 10 minutes of looking through her car (seriously, where the hell can you hide a tire??) we found it. Great. Step two: take it out of the car. Ah, a bit easier said than done but don’t worry. We got it.
Step three. What is step three? Find the instructions manual! I had her search out her trusty VW handbook and made her stand there and watch as I found the answer to the meaning of life. Or just how to change a tire. Dear Volkswagen: your instructions are not easily located within your manual. Just saying.
Ok. Now that we found out how to do it, let’s do this. The thing about it being snowy sucked for a number of reasons. One, it was cold. Two, visibility was at an all time low. Three, my hair was getting wet. Four, on any normal given day, people would give their left nut to help two college cuties. Do you think they care about that when it is snowing to beat the band? Nope. No, they do not. Either that or we were just bundled up too much and we couldn’t show off our sex appeal. Cleavage and snow do not go well together.
So we find the tire, the jack, and the tire iron. We find you need to jack the car up to get the tire on or off. The jack was completely terrifying. I, for some unknown reason, thought the jack was going to flap open on its own and pop up. (I did not think it would *magically* jack the car, it was just way too compact to be for what I thought it was for). So my friend, Randi, was following me around with this jack freaking the crap out of me while I tried to read the handbook. “For God’s sake, stop pointing it at me!!” I screech as she continues to pry it open. I grab it from her and hold it away from my body and face as I, too, try to open the damn thing. Turns out, there is a little area to screw it open, in case you were wondering. So we place the jack under the car and begin to jack it up. I also had this horrible vision of having the car fall off the jack. Remember I said I had somewhere to be in an hour? Oh we are getting real close to that hour at this point. I was pacing and cursing as we both took turns to try to get the damn tire off. Would you like to know how much of a great friend I am? That is right. I left. She ended up having a boyfriend finish the job. Moral of the story? Well there are a few here. 1. Car jacks will not, in fact, blow your face off. 2. Don’t ask me for help when it is snowing because chances are I will be cursing you throughout my entire meeting as my body shivers and my hair drips all over the floor. 3. Dress up like snow bunnies in order to elicit some help. 4. Don’t expect me to stick around. I won’t. 5. At least have a camera ready next time to capture my lovely face as I freak out about dying from a blow from a tire jack. Seriously. I was petrified.
So there you have it. Another “you had to be there” moment brought to you by me. It could be worse. It can always be worse. Happy Tuesday!