Britons, substitute "tyre" in the appropriate places.
Yesterday I was planning on auditioning for the local production of History Boys in spite of the fact that I'm a little too old for one of the available roles and probably a little too young for the other. Auditions were at one, so I figured I'd leave the house at about 11 and grab some lunch on the way there.
Except that my left-rear tire, which had had a slow leak for about a week, was completely and utterly flat, and my spare has a bent rim which I haven't had time or money to repair due to other more pressing financial obligations. I figured that the car would make it down to the corner gas station, I could air up the tire and make it to the Firestone on the other corner for repairs or replacement.
About halfway to the gas station, I remembered that I had a can of Fix-A-Flat in my trunk, so I pulled over and put that in the tire--I didn't observe a pressure increase, unfortunately, which didn't bode well for repairablity, but I thought I could make it to the gas station and get it aired up with a more robust compressor than a 16 oz. aerosol can, so I continued on--hazards blinking, moving very slowly.
75 cents later, at the gas station, I realized that the entire inner sidewall of the tire was blown out. How it managed to just be a slow leak for a week I have no idea. But anyway it was just another corner to the Firestone, and I was already halfway there, so I proceeded, with hazards, turtle-like pace, etc.
Until the sheriff's deputy pulled in behind me. I pulled into a side street, and explained the situation to the deputy as he ran my plates and checked to see if the car was stolen. He told me I wasn't allowed to drive down Austin Peay (a fairly busy road) with a flat, as it was a threat to public safety, but I could drive three miles out of the way on side streets to get to the Firestone, instead. We reached a compromise, where I took the tire off the car and he gave me a lift to Firestone.
In the back of his cruiser. This, incidentally, made great Twitter material, as "in the back of the police car" is the sort of immediately compelling story that makes for true entertainment, even if the reasons for it are boring.
Of course, Firestone is having a tire sale and cookout so I get brought in in the back of the police car (and naturally have to be let out, as the inside door handles on the back of police cars don't work for some reason*) to a group of guys standing around a barbecue grill cooking hot dogs. I thank the officer, and go in to buy my tire (I also get a free burger out of the deal, so it's not a total loss, even though the tire costs $180 after all the extra crap, like a valve stem).
My troubles aren't quite over, though--the computer system is down at Firestone, so I have to walk to the nearest ATM to get the money out, for a fee on one end of $2.75, plus an unknown fee on the other end. The Firestone guy is nice enough to deduct the $5 in ATM fees from the bill; and to give me a lift back to my car.
Putting the tire back on the car, I get it placed, and the lug nuts about half tightened when a sharp turn of the lug wrench makes the car fall off the crappy bent-screw screw jack. Fortunately the tire's in place and it only drops an inch or so to the ground instead of nine inches to the wheel hub, which I guess it might have done had a sudden gust of wind come along.
Needless to say, I missed the audition, but they're having another one tonight.
*Before certain of you try to explain why the door handles inside the back of police cars don't work, rest assured we all already know why.
Except that my left-rear tire, which had had a slow leak for about a week, was completely and utterly flat, and my spare has a bent rim which I haven't had time or money to repair due to other more pressing financial obligations. I figured that the car would make it down to the corner gas station, I could air up the tire and make it to the Firestone on the other corner for repairs or replacement.
About halfway to the gas station, I remembered that I had a can of Fix-A-Flat in my trunk, so I pulled over and put that in the tire--I didn't observe a pressure increase, unfortunately, which didn't bode well for repairablity, but I thought I could make it to the gas station and get it aired up with a more robust compressor than a 16 oz. aerosol can, so I continued on--hazards blinking, moving very slowly.
75 cents later, at the gas station, I realized that the entire inner sidewall of the tire was blown out. How it managed to just be a slow leak for a week I have no idea. But anyway it was just another corner to the Firestone, and I was already halfway there, so I proceeded, with hazards, turtle-like pace, etc.
Until the sheriff's deputy pulled in behind me. I pulled into a side street, and explained the situation to the deputy as he ran my plates and checked to see if the car was stolen. He told me I wasn't allowed to drive down Austin Peay (a fairly busy road) with a flat, as it was a threat to public safety, but I could drive three miles out of the way on side streets to get to the Firestone, instead. We reached a compromise, where I took the tire off the car and he gave me a lift to Firestone.
In the back of his cruiser. This, incidentally, made great Twitter material, as "in the back of the police car" is the sort of immediately compelling story that makes for true entertainment, even if the reasons for it are boring.
Of course, Firestone is having a tire sale and cookout so I get brought in in the back of the police car (and naturally have to be let out, as the inside door handles on the back of police cars don't work for some reason*) to a group of guys standing around a barbecue grill cooking hot dogs. I thank the officer, and go in to buy my tire (I also get a free burger out of the deal, so it's not a total loss, even though the tire costs $180 after all the extra crap, like a valve stem).
My troubles aren't quite over, though--the computer system is down at Firestone, so I have to walk to the nearest ATM to get the money out, for a fee on one end of $2.75, plus an unknown fee on the other end. The Firestone guy is nice enough to deduct the $5 in ATM fees from the bill; and to give me a lift back to my car.
Putting the tire back on the car, I get it placed, and the lug nuts about half tightened when a sharp turn of the lug wrench makes the car fall off the crappy bent-screw screw jack. Fortunately the tire's in place and it only drops an inch or so to the ground instead of nine inches to the wheel hub, which I guess it might have done had a sudden gust of wind come along.
Needless to say, I missed the audition, but they're having another one tonight.
*Before certain of you try to explain why the door handles inside the back of police cars don't work, rest assured we all already know why.