I was driving down the road in Beulah the Buick today… all rocking out to my favorite new CD, Polka Music of the 20s and 30s (can y’all believe it was in the bargain bin!?!?!?! As if!!!) when Beulah decided it was Sunday afternoon naptime. She was all moving really slowly and making weird noises… something about get your big fat buttocks out of my custom-designed faux fox fur seats! I thought it was strange, so turned my CD down approximately 312 decibels and began self-diagnosing Beulah’s problem… kind of like I was a shrink for geezer vehicles. I’m all like, I’m pretty sure it’s the transmission (what’s a transmission?)… and then I’m all like, I’m darn sure it’s the rotator cuff (do cars have a rotator cuff?)… but then it was, I KNOW it’s the fastidious shmigidius belt… I don’t know why I didn’t become a mechanic because all of those diagnoses were pretty much right on the mark. I was only about 2 blocks from home, so I turned Beulah around and limped on back home, diagnosing more issues on the way.
At home, I made Madre come out to make sure she could hear what I was hearing in the car… just making sure my eardrum didn’t burst from Q-tipitis or some such nonsense, and when we came barreling out the door, we see this:
Now… I ain’t no transmission specialist, but I’m pretty sure that there transmission is supposed to be more rounded like… maybe? 😛 Flat tire did not even come out of my diagnosing rambling… not once. I’ve been in cars that had flat tires before, and in my defense, this was a much different sound/feeling. It sounded like Beulah was having some real bad irritable bowel syndrome… nothing that a little Pepto can’t cure.
So, I got to change my first tire. Why am I 33 and have never learned how to change a tire? Excuse you… you try being 530 pounds and hefting yourself up off the ground. I’d seriously have to hire a forklift to come in and give me a shove. I had my dad walk me through the changing steps. Firstly, they put them dagblasted bolts on so tight it’s a wonder He-Man could move them… secondly, gross… all dirty and nastee. Thirdly… what kind of a tire is this spare thing I’m supposed to be putting on. You think this donut here is going to hold up a ton of metal? When I got the spare tire on, I discovered it was also flat. LOLOLOLOLOL!!! Thank goodness for the spare tire… I’d be in a jam … it’s a good thing I was sitting in my driveway.
Tomorrow morning’s adventure will be pushing the car down the street to the nearest
transmission tire service. I’ll bring my list of things I’m pretty sure are wrong with it. They’ll probably have to call to get my advice at some point. I’ll let you know.
Question of the Day: Do you know how to change a tire?