The Wheels On My Bus
Today I spent the morning sitting at the mechanics.
Last night I got home from work and was about to head to work when I saw that I had a flat tire. I mean flat. This intrigued me because the night before I had just driven three hours and had had no problem with the tires. I couldn't see what was wrong with it and therefore couldn't just go get some fix-a-flat or whatever. So I set to jacking the car up and changing the tire. Apparently, in addition to needing men to open doors for me (chivalry isn't dead!) I also need them to unscrew some bolts because it took three of us. I asked some random guy who doesn't live at my apartment but had the misfortune of being the first person I saw unscrew the bolts. I guess that snowball I ran over coming into my parking lot the night before wasn't really a snowball, or else some sort of malicious snowball, because the gouge in my tire was too big to have driven on further than two feet.
I blame my dad. Somehow he sabotaged me. I say this because just the other day, after driving each others' cars, he was complaining to me about my tires while I was complaining to him about his alignment. I explained to him that the front tires were new and the back were not as used on my front-wheel drive car. He explained to me that my problem with his car was operator error (although how I could have not crashed into trees and cars with the steering wheel off by 45 degrees if it were really operator error, I know not). Somehow my dad got an ice ball to wait for me in my parking lot. (Lately, I've devised all kinds of conspiracy theories. One involved a couple of "world leaders", or morons, the other a certain situation involving the "retirement" of some judges. I'm not going to say anything else because I don't want the government to go all Mel Gibson on me. Well, I guess I'd go all Mel Gibson on them.)
Last night I got home from work and was about to head to work when I saw that I had a flat tire. I mean flat. This intrigued me because the night before I had just driven three hours and had had no problem with the tires. I couldn't see what was wrong with it and therefore couldn't just go get some fix-a-flat or whatever. So I set to jacking the car up and changing the tire. Apparently, in addition to needing men to open doors for me (chivalry isn't dead!) I also need them to unscrew some bolts because it took three of us. I asked some random guy who doesn't live at my apartment but had the misfortune of being the first person I saw unscrew the bolts. I guess that snowball I ran over coming into my parking lot the night before wasn't really a snowball, or else some sort of malicious snowball, because the gouge in my tire was too big to have driven on further than two feet.
I blame my dad. Somehow he sabotaged me. I say this because just the other day, after driving each others' cars, he was complaining to me about my tires while I was complaining to him about his alignment. I explained to him that the front tires were new and the back were not as used on my front-wheel drive car. He explained to me that my problem with his car was operator error (although how I could have not crashed into trees and cars with the steering wheel off by 45 degrees if it were really operator error, I know not). Somehow my dad got an ice ball to wait for me in my parking lot. (Lately, I've devised all kinds of conspiracy theories. One involved a couple of "world leaders", or morons, the other a certain situation involving the "retirement" of some judges. I'm not going to say anything else because I don't want the government to go all Mel Gibson on me. Well, I guess I'd go all Mel Gibson on them.)
posted by Cheryl at
3:45 PM
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