flats & soles

I'm not the technologically savvy type of girl. If you were to ask me for a screwdriver, I would ask you "plus or minus?". So naturally, having a tire go flat on me this past weekend left me feeling like a helpless female. I don't know the first thing about changing a tire. Thankfully on of the pastors from my church & his step-father came out to put my spare tire on. The spare is this little baby thing that has a warning on it informing the driver not to drive faster than fifty miles per hour. However, I forgot that little recommendation until I was on the freeway on-ramp yesterday pissing everyone off by driving forty-five in a sixty with my hazard lights flashing.

When I think of tires, I automatically think of Les Schwab, so I made my way over there after work this morning to get the tire fixed. Everything started off pretty well- he asked what tire was flat & I confidently informed him that it was the back right tire. I also told him that it has a locking lug nut (Silly...? Probably) & then my terminology took a turn for the worse as I stated that the "screwy thing" was also in the front along with the "panel-y" thing that covers the lugs. He chuckled a little bit as I put my hand to my forehead & confessed that I'm not very good at this.

Thankfully the van is confidently mobile again & I can drive over fifty miles per hour. If only they had someone who could fix this huge hole in the sole of my shoe so I wouldn't have to buy another pair for two more weeks of work.