changing a flat…


A few days ago, one of those numerous talk radio shows was having a discussion with a lot of feigned shock and surprise over things people DON’T know how to do. The radio host started with a story of an middle aged lady confused by the gas pump because she had never had to pump her own gas, her husband did it for her and he was away on a trip. It quickly flowed into the ever popular theme of girls and cars. Girls who couldn’t pump gas, couldn’t check their oil, couldn’t check their tire pressure, and of course who couldn’t change a flat. I was a little piqued because I knew all the mechanics of changing a flat, and indeed had had two very recently, but I was always stumped on one little tiny part. Lugnuts. It doesn’t matter how hard I jump up and down on the tire iron to loosen the lug nuts, I can’t physically break the air gun tightened seal. Irritated, I changed the radio station.

Prophetic? Perhaps. Yesterday driving home from work, I had ANOTHER flat. This time my Rear Right tire, it was a puncture that cut through the tread and wire on the inside of the tire. FANtastic. Thankfully my partner for that night was driving behind me and she stopped to keep me company. I say keep me company because we got the jack in place, got the spare out, got the tire iron and both of us could not get the lugnut seal to break. We jumped and stomped and kicked and heaved, and the blasted things would not move. Finally, in the midst of me perched precariously with both feet on the tire iron and hopping up and down, a stranger walked our way and offered his assistance. He, too, had to resort to jumping on the tire iron with a jump kick kind of motion that still took multiple tries, but was eventually successful. He also weighed probably 60lbs more than me. After that, I can do the rest, but he of course followed through on the job and apart from putting two lugnuts back in place on the dummy tire, everything was done with very little hassle to me.

SO stupid radio station. It is not from ignorance or from being “sheltered” that turns me into a very annoyed damsel in distress, it is the simple matter that my 120lbs is not sufficient to break the seal on a lug nut that has been tightened with an air gun. I am very thankful for everyone who has thus had to help me change a tire; shout outs to my husband, one of the supervisors at work, and of course this random stranger. I would be even more thankful if I could just do it myself and avoid the embarrasement. Oh, and every single person who has had to help has also had to jump up and down on the tire iron, except Brian managed it with a back kick for a few of them. Stupid lug nuts.


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