I had originally planned to do a little cleaning and then kick back while Hannah was at school. HAH! I did get some cleaning done but then discovered that coming back from dropping Hannah off at school, I ran over a nail and that my back tire was flat. Nice. I start to take the jack out and realize that I don't think I have anything to take the nuts off of the tire with. I call Dad. He says there should be one with the jack. After a little digging, I found it. I can't get the nuts off. I call Dad. Which way do you turn the nuts to get them off? Counter-clockwise. Got it. There I am, in the garage, jumping on this stupid wrench to try to get the nuts loose. They finally loosen. Okay...where do I put the jack? That one took me about 5 minutes. I also managed to tear a hole in my pants with the stupid thing. Okay. The wheel is off of the ground. I take off the nuts and the hubcap and tire. That tire is a heavy son of a bitch. By this point, I'm sweating profusely but I'm in the home stretch. I grab the spare and roll it over. Which way does the thing go on? I call Dad (who I'm sure is getting pretty annoyed) who tells me to look at my other tires to gauge. Ummm. Okay. I finally decide on a side and discover that I have very little arm strength left. It took me forever to get that bastard on. I get the nuts on and tightened and lower the van. I give the nuts one last tighten and put everything in the trunk. 35 minutes from start to finish. And the only injury was when I kicked the spare and lifted my toenail (which by this point is bleeding all over).
I wash my hands and call Dad to let him know that everything's done but there's no answer...I figure he's finally gotten tired of my calls...shrug and go get Hannah from school. While I'm driving there, I remember that I still have the string from the spare hanging from the bottom of the van. Crap. I pull into the pick up line and go around back to open the hatch to pull the string in...the full size tire falls out and lands on my foot. A nice big red mark from the tire, several colorful words from me and the tire and the string are secured in the trunk.
Now, I get to go pick up the boys and then head over to Sam's to have the freaking tire fixed. I'm tired, sore, gimpy from the tire falling on my foot, bloody from kicking the tire and a little queasy from all of this. I need a chauffeur.
6 comments:
What a woman! You are my hero.
Sorry about Dad answering the phone. I called him and he must not have noticed the other line ringing. If it makes you feel better, he did think I was you at first.
I hope your day gets better. You need a nice glass of wine and dinner out. Roses would be nice too ;)
Dad showed me how to change the tire years ago...I was just hoping that I could remember. It's really not that hard but it takes a lot of elbow grease.
When Mike gets home I may just run out and get a bottle of wine! :)
Oh. I guess that I forgot to tell you not to kick a tire. That's what &(*&^^% is for. Or as an alternative ##$#^**)). But if you just HAVE to kick the tire anyhow, always use steel toed shoes.
Now back to NASCAR. Did you know that 5 of them can change all four tires in 13-15 seconds? And sometimes that upper time is just waiting for the gas tank to fill up.
(^_^)
I guess I should have clarified...I accidentially kicked the tire. I didn't do it out of frustration! LOL!
Go Barb! Remember - righty tighty, lefty loosey.
My hubbie always tells me & the boys "Lefty-Loosey, Righty-Tighty"
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