Getting tires fixed is literally the story of my life. I'm not exaggerating.
Since we live on a dirt road, we get nails in our tires often. This results in tire pressure warning lights coming on and then me driving whatever vehicle it is to the tire place, Big O Tires.
One Friday a few weeks back, my light came on. Since Scott was away hunting, and it was 2 degrees outside, I took his extra truck to school and then the next afternoon, he and I took my SUV to the tire place on our way to run errands. They said they couldn't fit us in that day but they believed it was the back passenger tire and that it was a slow leak and they could top off the air and I could come back Monday.
Scott checked all the tires himself when we got home. and said there was nothing wrong with any of them (the reason why I usually insist we use the tire place is because it's free since I have a warranty plan there and I really hate adding to Scott's to-do list).
The tire light went off. Four days later, it came back on again. Scott was using up the last of his block leave on another hunting trip, so I drove to the tire place after school. They asked me which tire it was and I repeated what they'd told me the week before. I waited for half an hour and they said it was good to go. The next day, the pressure warning light came back on.
I whined around to Scott for a few days, asking him to look at it. He was busy. I had after-school obligations and couldn't make it to the tire place.
Finally, he left work and came to my school, took the back driver's side tire off and said there was a giant nail in it. He put the spare on and, since we had an army obligation after work, said I could take it to the tire place the next day. I *kind of* complained about this. I mean, I know he's absolutely swamped at work all of the time, but unless it's a meeting or something, I usually assume he can leave the office. Like, I WISH I could do that just a little bit. My whole day is one long meeting. I relayed my thoughts on this to my coworker, as the truck sat in the school parking lot with my deflated tire in the bed, waiting to be taken to get fixed after school.
Then Scott sent me a message saying he came by and picked it up and dropped it off at the tire place. It'd be ready for me to pick up after school.
Done and done. I may be the most predictable person around, as I'd already let her know. And Scott never fails to make himself look good.
I went into the tire place after work and they're all How can we help you? and What can we do for you today? and Oh, yes, your husband dropped off a tire? Was it round? Ha ha ha Yes, we'll get that right out.
And I barely had time to come to a stop before I was turning around and following my tire as it was rolled out the door and put in the bed of the truck.
Obviously, when Scott got home, my first question was What did you do at Big O? Because they were awfully nice and efficient.
Scott said it took him all of a minute to get everyone's attention because he walked in and said he did the hard part for them and the tire was off the car and he put a piece of tape over the hole and Should I wait or should my wife pick it up? They said I should pick it up and he said She'll be here at 4:15 and just left.
So anyway. Fixed for now. Until next time.
Also, is it really only Thursday? Like, really?
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