The $8.75 Tire

I'm neglecting the blog again, I realize. But I'm now DONE with the yearbook, so I'm back in the comforting arms of my own personal photography & writing. I promise to be better. Really.

That being said - quick story, and then I have to get back to editing the pictures I've taken since we've been free of lockdown so I can post them here & on flickr.

I had a flat tire a while back and Craig got a patch kit and fixed it. The thing actually lasted for quite a while on the patch, and yesterday I took it in because it was flat again. I took it on base to the auto shop and said, "I have a flat tire, and I need a new one." NOT, "I want to get it fixed," or, "Could you look at my tire?"

"I need a new one."

I proceeded to tell them it was the back passenger tire instead of the back driver's side tire (dang you for putting that wheel on the OTHER side...) but obviously they only needed to look and then laugh and probably make fun of me in Japanese.

About 30 minutes later he said, "It's done, ma'am," and I jumped to pay.

"That's eight seventy-five."

I figured I hadn't heard the "forty" or "eighty" or whatever in FRONT of the "eight". But no - after I slid the card through the machine, he handed me the receipt to sign and it said $8.75. Dude! I walked out and looked at the tire - shiny and nice, unlike the others. I just got a tire for under nine bucks! DANG!

So I called Craig from the parking lot to tell him it was done.
"What's the damage?"
"Are you ready for this?"
"Oh God what...."
"$8.75."
"WHAT?!"
"I know, right?"
"Did they give you a new tire? Or patch the old one?"
"It's new... I looked."
"Dang, I thought you'd say it was like $200 or something..."

This morning Craig called me from the car on his way to work. He looked on his way to the car, and it's my old tire, patched. Cleaned up - but not a new tire.

I thought I'd blogged this, but last summer after food shopping with Mia at the commissary we came outside to a dead Nissan Cube. Wouldn't start. I tried for a long time, even found someone in the lot with jumper cables after trying to buy a set at the PX and not FINDING them. I swear on my life I put that thing in park. I even jiggled the gear shift to make sure. Mia, our groceries, and I took a cab home. That night, we came back on base in Craig's car and he swiftly put it in park and started the car up fine. Of course. What can I say - I'd been driving a stick for a long time before coming here and returning to an automatic transmission!

I hate it when he's all "me and my testosterone will take care of all things automobile related... how did you survive without me when I was deployed?" Well, honey - though you can detect a car that isn't in park, and a patched tire - you can't make a ponytail or a grilled cheese sandwich, so NANNY NANNY FOO FOO!