By a miracle of God, my car has been in working order for two weeks! Yea! Since I don’t have a current yarn to weave about the Blazer, I am sharing my first tire-changing adventure today. (And yes, there was cursing.)
During my sophomore year of college, I was living on campus across the street from a frat house that had been shut down; the house and its parking lot were empty. Parking around the dorms at MSU was always at a premium, so naturally, I and several other smart people in Scholar’s House decided to take advantage of these wide-open parking spaces. Everything was cool for two weeks when somebodies (presumably some jaded frat bros) decided to take ice picks to one tire on each car in their parking lot.
Joy. Especially when you discover the flat tire just before you’re supposed to leave for work.
Whatever. A roommate took me to work, and my boyfriend picked me up. Now if I were a guy trying to win the heart of a cute college coed, I would’ve volunteered to change her tire. But did he? No. This is why he is fondly referred to as Bad Chris by my family and friends. (We certainly don’t want to confuse him with current, good Chris.)
Next morning, I bundled up in as many layers as I could find and headed to the parking lot to change my tire before my 9:00 class. I knew how to change a tire; changing a tire is just like fixing any other car part. Take the old part off and put the new part on. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
No, it wasn’t. It was difficult difficult lemon difficult.
Changing the tire wasn’t the hard part; figuring out how to unscrew my jack took me an hour. I wasn’t stupid; the jack had never been used, and the screws were screwed in so tightly that it was all I could do to loosen them. I called my dad, who took the brunt of my frustrations with a very colorful voicemail. And every time the MSU shuttle passed me by, I just knew the driver was laughing at the poor girl trying to change her tire.
Once I freed the jack, changing the tire hardly took any time at all. Because changing a tire is really simple: Block your tires. Put on your emergency brake. Jack up the car. Remove the lug nuts. Take off the bad tire. Put on the new tire. Screw in the lug nuts, tightening in a star pattern. Jack down the car. Release the emergency brake. Unblock the tires. Kill the “boyfriend” who is asleep in his warm bed. Be late for history.
It’s no wonder, really, why that relationship didn’t work out.