Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Apparently it's Called a Donut

I had a little post all ready for today, but it has been put on hold until tomorrow because something happened on the way home that makes for a better story, at least in my opinion.

I had an appointment at the chiropractor Wednesday afternoon, as is often the case and so I left work at 4:00 in order to make a stop by a UPS drop off location (to ship Caroline’s package) and then make it to the chiropractor by 4:30. After dropping off the package, I got back on the Parkway and exited at Governor’s. For whatever reason, I always take that back street that runs behind Top Line Tires and Ayers Produce to cross Governor’s and turn right onto St. Clair which is where the chiropractor’s office is.

I was stopped at the light and called Star Market to order a small Terry’s pizza to eat for dinner because after three days of roast for dinner, I was ready for a change. The light turned green and as soon as I crossed Governor’s I heard a high pitched squeal and felt a bump and thought, “Oh Lord! Have I hit a cat? A dog? A small child?” As it turns out, the tire on my front passenger side blew out. So, I turned onto St. Clair and pulled into the first parking lot I came to.

I am sometimes a lot smarter than I look and thankfully had the brilliance of mind to pay for the Roadside Assistance as part of my car insurance. The reason being is, sadly, my dad won’t be around forever and I need to rely on myself more than him. So, I pulled that gold card out of the glove compartment and gave it a call. The automated system connected me with a company whom I assume my insurance company has a contract with and after telling them where I was, the lady said someone would be there in about 30 minutes.

Now, 30 minutes isn’t too big of a deal except I needed to pee and instead of going at work before leaving, I had planned on using the facilities at the chiropractor’s office. So, I gathered my purse and phone and keys and walked up to the front of the building where I was parked. I had no idea what kind of businesses were there. Ironically one was an insurance agent (although not my company) and the other was a bathroom and kitchen store – they sell cabinets, fixtures, etc. I went into the kitchen/bathroom store, explained I was in their parking lot and did they have a restroom I could use. They apparently took pity on me because they pointed me in the direction of the facilities. The old man was also willing to change my tire but I told him I had already called someone and plus it was hot out there so he needn’t bother, but thanks.

After using the facilities, I went back to the car and cranked it up and did some reading while waiting on the roadside assistance. The man arrived a few minutes after I opened my book and when I got out of the car, he didn’t really say anything – weird. Finally he asked for my ID, which I gave him. His name was Kevin, per the nametag on his shirt. Kevin then had me sign the paperwork and brought out a jack and a thing to take the lug nuts off of the tire. (What is that thing called? It looks kind of like a drill – I’ll just call it the thing).

In the meantime, mind you, I called Terry’s pizza again and let them know what was going on and that I would be late picking up my pizza. A young guy answered the phone and said he would just make me a new one and have it ready about 5:15 – works for me!

Back to the scene of the vehicle – Kevin was working really slowly and it was so hot outside. I thought I was going to be drenched in sweat by the time it was all over and I wasn’t even doing any of the work. He got that thing and started to take the lug nuts off and he didn’t have the right size remover on the thing so he had to change that out. (Is anyone else laughing at “the thing” or is it just me?) Then after he removed two, the power in the thing died (“I ran out of juice,” he said) and I kid you not, he went and cranked up a generator so he could give that thing some power.

Finally 15 minutes or so after arriving, Kevin had the spare tire on my car and we parted ways. Now look, I have driven Blue with tape on the window, a wrecked front side, etc., but there is just something exceptionally ghetto about driving around with the spare tire. I find this to be the most embarrassing of all. I drove it to Star Market and picked up some apples from Scott’s, some ham for the next two day’s worth of sandwiches for work and my pizza. The guy that I had talked to earlier asked me if I was okay. Then he asked me if I had the donut on my car. I have never heard of the spare tire referred to as a donut, but now I know. This kid was probably 16 or 17 and he told me not to go too fast with the donut on – not over 50 he said. I think it’s more like 40, who knows?

So, if you see me driving around Huntsville with my donut the next couple of days, just honk and wave and smile, but wait until I’m past you before you start laughing at my donut. I hope to have some new tires put on this weekend. Until then, fingers crossed this doesn’t happen again because I don’t have any more donuts in the trunk of my car.


Melissa said...

Oh Natty....bless old blue's heart. I'm surprised you haven't heard of a spare tire being called a donut...hehe. I'm glad the flat tire wasn't a dangerous turn of events. Love ya!!

Tony said...

Years ago I had a flat tire late one night leaving Atlanta. The worst part of that evening wasn't having to change the tire at some ghetto gas station there, but the fact that I had to drive 45-50 mph all the way back to Huntsville!!

Erika said...

Poor is just always something!
Very good idea about roadside assistance.
Glad that it all worked out in the end.

Alison said...

I've never heard it called a donut either. I have heard that you shouldn't go over 50 mph or more than 50 miles distance. My dad called it the 50/50 rule of spare driving. :) Yay! for roadside assistance. I always forget I have it and go ahead and change my own tire.