My car will be the death of me. Financially, anyway.
I was on my way to pick up Eloise yesterday when, once again, my car started making ominous noises, which were a little too similar to last month. This time, I pulled into a gas station as soon as possible. Luckily, my spindle hadn't snapped again. No, my rear tire was merely ripped to shreds. On one hand, I was happy that's all it was, but on the other, it was blatantly obvious that I was going to need a new tire. This was no patch job, that was for sure. At this rate, I will need a third job just to pay for my car (which is paid off).
I've changed a tire all by myself before, so that's what I set up to do, thinking all the while about what Grayer said about the man of my dreams coming to my assistance. I jacked the car, and got out my wrench, and took off the first two lugnuts. But I was still sore from my kickboxing experiment on Monday, and was really struggling with the last two lugnuts. Throughout this process, two men were standing at a pump, waiting for their tank to fill up and watching. And watching me struggle. I am an independent woman, capable of changing my own tire, but I just kept thinking, really guys? Can't you help a girl out? Finally, when I straightened up from another failed attempt to loosen the stubborn lugnut, one of the guys was standing right next to me. It was kind of creepy. He didn't say anything, just took my wrench and started unscrewing. "Thanks," I said. He didn't say anything. His friend finished pumping his gas, helped the first guy take off my shredded tire, and put on the spare, not saying a word. As the first guy was tightening up the lugnuts, I once again said, "Thanks so much!" Finally, he spoke: "Make sure you don't drive over 45, 50 mph on these donuts." Right. And that was all.
For all the "luck" I am supposedly having, it's not translating into any other aspect of my life. I've sunk $1,000 into my car in the last month. I have not met a Harvard Hottie in Eloise's building, and I certainly can't meet men outside of her building, since everyone assumes the mini-me holding my hand is my daughter. Dogs are man-magnets. Children are not. Now I can't even find a man while being a damsel in distress on the side of the road. What is this world coming to?
1 comment:
Ugh. Ok that act of "chivalry" would just piss me the hell off. You didn't ask for their help, they didn't need to be like that. You obviously knew what you were doing, lugnuts can just be difficult. I'm sorry this wasn't the damsel in distress situation you were hoping for. If it makes you feel better, my last DID situation involved a severe hangover, puking and a popped tire. A man and his 5 yr old graciously changed my tire for me, while I reeked of alcohol, vomit, and bad decisions. I think the little boy was frightened.
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