I'd rather bake a cake...

So, I woke up today all motivated with a list of things I needed to get done...many of them involving a car. I was all set to drop N. off at work and get going, but as soon as we pull out of the driveway, we hear the dreaded THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! of a flat tire. Sigh.

So back into the driveway we go. N. calls a cab and Maya (one of my dogs who was coming along for the ride) goes back into the house. Now, I've changed a tire once before about 10 years ago when I had my Mustang.. but I figured it's like riding a bike right? I guess, it wasn't a good sign that I couldn't even find the spare tire. I called my dad (because this lovely station wagon used to be his.. it was his "you're moving to Boston and need a reliable car" gift to me) to ask him where I it was. I mean, seriously, how many places can you hide a tire? So he tells me where it is, but then proceeds to do his normal "dad" thing.This is my dad's trademark. You can NEVER EVER just call him and ask him a simple question. I expected the conversation to go something like this:

Me: Dad, where is the spare tire in my car?

Dad: It's in the _______.

Me:  OK, thanks Dad! Talk to you later.

Dad:  OK, bye!

It didn't go like that at all. Went something like this:

     Me: Dad, where is the spare tire in my car?

     Dad: Your car is on fire?

     Me: No, daddy. I said Where is the spare tire in my car?

     Dad: The spare tire in my car?

     Me: No. In my car, Dad.

     Dad: Do you have a flat tire?

     Me: Yes, dad. That's why I'm asking you where the spare tire is.

     Dad: Are you on the road? Where are you? Stay in the car! Is it the tire on the side where there's traffic?  

     Stay in the car!

     Me: I'm in my driveway, dad. Daddy?

     Dad: Yea?

     Me: Where's the spare tire?

     Dad:  It's in the back, behind the left panel.

     Me: OK, thanks. I'll call you later.

     Dad: Huh? No. Wait. Listen to me. You need to ask a neighbor or someone to help you. You can't 

     change that tire by yourself. You're not going to be able to loosen the nuts. If you put the jack in the 

     wrong place, the car will fall and crush you! Also, make sure you put the emergency brake on and put a   

     piece of wood or a brick behind the front tire so the car doesn't roll back and crush you! You need to ask 

     someone to help you...

     Me: Daddy?

     Dad: Yea?

     Me: It's a tire. I think I can change a tire without killing myself. And, if I can't get the nuts loose or lift the   

     car, then I'll call triple A. I have them. I just don't want to waste one of my three free assistance's with a  

     flat tire... in my own driveway. I'll be fine Dad, really. I'll call you later.

     Dad: But, you'll be crushed!

     Me: I'll talk to you later Dad.

o_O

I pull out the tire and get the hubcap off. I try to loosen the bolts, and nada. N. gives it a try and manages to get one off, but she stops because her hands are getting dirty and she can't go to work dirty and her cab is here and... Bye! So, I keep trying. Nothing. My phone rings again:

     Me: Hi, Dad.
     Dad: Listen, I really think you should call triple A. Do you have an W-40. Go get some W-40 and spray
     it on the bolts. Is your driveway on a hill?
     Me: No, Dad. It's not on a hill.
     Dad: Are you sure? Because if the ground is slanted, the car is gonna roll back on you. You also need  
     something hard like a piece of wood to put the jack on because it will sink into the ground if you don't.
     Me: Dad?
     Dad: Yea?
     Me: My driveway is made of asphalt. The jack isn't going to sink into asphalt. I'll call you later, dad.

Well, I wasn't able o get the nuts loose. I gave up after trying for 20 minutes. I even stood on the damn wrench thing. So I called my good friend, J. I call him every time I have car trouble. He laughs at me and then he magically appears on my doorstep and fixes my problem. In the rain... in the snow. So yea.. he's coming over after work to change my damn tire.

Now, I know you're all sitting there absolutely appalled by my damsel in distress attitude. I guess it's pretty ironic that the back of my car is covered in feminist bumper stickers (such as "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle) but here I am, waiting for a man to come change my tire. I'm sure this will surely get me thrown out of the lesbian club for sure. Oh well. I'm not a damsel in distress. I can work a drill. I can lift heavy crap.. up two flights of stairs. Hell, I can even build shelves and use a damn circle saw! I'm not afraid of bugs, snakes, or getting dirty. But, when it comes to cars? A blank stare comes over my face, I blink dazedly, I tie my little 50's apron on and go inside and bake a cake.

Namaste bitches!


-D.