Driving Miss Belinda
First, I want to send out best wishes to all those who have family affected by Katrina. I know it must be unbelievably hard right now, so I'm here for support.
On a lighter note...sometimes I think I should've been a blonde. (My mom was blonde until she was 4, and we're still seeing the effects.) No offense to the fair-haired out there! Well, as you can probably guess, I'm a whiz with cars. Right. I was at work Friday afternoon when my manager told me to go look at one of my tires. Sure enough, it was very low (but not flat!). I told her that I'd take care of it after work. I wouldn't be back in the office until the following Wednesday, so I didn't want to leave my projects up in the air.
She wasn't satisfied with that answer. She enlisted the help of the Aggie lawyer, who asked if my car was the one with the disgusting stickers plastered all over it. "Oh no!" I assured him, "my car is the one with the lovely Longhorn paraphernalia (that came with the car)." The manager tactfully reminded me that I needed his help. Anyway, he agreed that I needed to take care of the tire ASAP. They were both really sweet about offering me rides to the garage, back to work, home, etc., but I live 5 minutes away, so I didn't want to take them up on their offers. Eventually the manager got exasperated with me for being so nonchalant about the situation. She ordered, "Go get your car fixed now! Child!" It didn't occur to me at the time that the air would seep out by the end of the day, and that I wouldn't be able to drive anywhere by then. They finally wore me down, and I left early to put air in the tire at a nearby gas station.
The air machine at the station had a sign that said to see the cashier about getting free air. (It sounds a little ironic, no?) Well, anything free sounds good to me, so I went inside to ask the cashier for help with the tire. She brushed me away quickly saying, "Yeah, yeah, you just pull the thing and then put it in." It sounds dirty now, but I was really just concerned with the tire at that point.
I've never had an occasion to put air in my tires before, but I didn't think it looked that hard. I headed back to the pump, and a guy rushed over to see if I needed help. I put on the strong-willed female act and said, "No, I think I got it." But once I unscrewed the air valve and tried using the pump, my tire was deflating even more. Finally two biker guys got out of a car to help me. (One guy had a false leg with the Harley-Davidson insignia, so I'm not just stereotyping.) One of them tried the pump, and sure enough, no air was coming out. They looked back at me like I was an idiot, and said, "Lady, you have to put money in the machine first." I tried to explain that I'd just talked to the cashier (who finally saw me struggling with the pump and decided to turn on the machine at that very moment). The one-legged man filled my tire and then whipped it out. That's right...He had a pressure gauge in his pocket! I asked him what the pressure was, thinking it should've been somewhere over 30 lbs. He just dismissed me, and said, "It's good. It's good. Don't worry about it." They walked away after I thanked them profusely.
I got back into my car to drive away. Unfortunately, I forgot that I'd opened my passenger door earlier. When I pulled away, it swung completely open. Cars behind me honked as I blocked the entrance to close it. I also tried to ignore the biker guys' laughter as I drove off with my emergency lights blinking. I made it to a garage a few miles away without a problem. Thank goodness it didn't cost a dime for them to patch the tire. So, I guess I can be a helpless girl sometimes.
I told my dad this story when I got home. He just shook his head to say, "Why couldn't I have had a son??" :p
On a lighter note...sometimes I think I should've been a blonde. (My mom was blonde until she was 4, and we're still seeing the effects.) No offense to the fair-haired out there! Well, as you can probably guess, I'm a whiz with cars. Right. I was at work Friday afternoon when my manager told me to go look at one of my tires. Sure enough, it was very low (but not flat!). I told her that I'd take care of it after work. I wouldn't be back in the office until the following Wednesday, so I didn't want to leave my projects up in the air.
She wasn't satisfied with that answer. She enlisted the help of the Aggie lawyer, who asked if my car was the one with the disgusting stickers plastered all over it. "Oh no!" I assured him, "my car is the one with the lovely Longhorn paraphernalia (that came with the car)." The manager tactfully reminded me that I needed his help. Anyway, he agreed that I needed to take care of the tire ASAP. They were both really sweet about offering me rides to the garage, back to work, home, etc., but I live 5 minutes away, so I didn't want to take them up on their offers. Eventually the manager got exasperated with me for being so nonchalant about the situation. She ordered, "Go get your car fixed now! Child!" It didn't occur to me at the time that the air would seep out by the end of the day, and that I wouldn't be able to drive anywhere by then. They finally wore me down, and I left early to put air in the tire at a nearby gas station.
The air machine at the station had a sign that said to see the cashier about getting free air. (It sounds a little ironic, no?) Well, anything free sounds good to me, so I went inside to ask the cashier for help with the tire. She brushed me away quickly saying, "Yeah, yeah, you just pull the thing and then put it in." It sounds dirty now, but I was really just concerned with the tire at that point.
I've never had an occasion to put air in my tires before, but I didn't think it looked that hard. I headed back to the pump, and a guy rushed over to see if I needed help. I put on the strong-willed female act and said, "No, I think I got it." But once I unscrewed the air valve and tried using the pump, my tire was deflating even more. Finally two biker guys got out of a car to help me. (One guy had a false leg with the Harley-Davidson insignia, so I'm not just stereotyping.) One of them tried the pump, and sure enough, no air was coming out. They looked back at me like I was an idiot, and said, "Lady, you have to put money in the machine first." I tried to explain that I'd just talked to the cashier (who finally saw me struggling with the pump and decided to turn on the machine at that very moment). The one-legged man filled my tire and then whipped it out. That's right...He had a pressure gauge in his pocket! I asked him what the pressure was, thinking it should've been somewhere over 30 lbs. He just dismissed me, and said, "It's good. It's good. Don't worry about it." They walked away after I thanked them profusely.
I got back into my car to drive away. Unfortunately, I forgot that I'd opened my passenger door earlier. When I pulled away, it swung completely open. Cars behind me honked as I blocked the entrance to close it. I also tried to ignore the biker guys' laughter as I drove off with my emergency lights blinking. I made it to a garage a few miles away without a problem. Thank goodness it didn't cost a dime for them to patch the tire. So, I guess I can be a helpless girl sometimes.
I told my dad this story when I got home. He just shook his head to say, "Why couldn't I have had a son??" :p