For anyone who might be wondering, I am apparently a right front tire's worst nightmare. You may think I'm being a teensy bit melodramatic and exaggerating a slight bit. Trust me, I am not. Allow me to prove my case.
Let me take you back to the summer of 2003. I remember it well, as that was bad hair year 2003 (take my word for it, the Meg Ryan look is not attractive on the likes of me). I was home from college for the summer, working as an office runner at my mom's office and taking some classes at the local college. Luckily 2 of them were online so that cut down on my actually having to go to class and pretend to listen for several hours a week. (I won't discuss the 1 class I did have to attend, especially since it may have resulted in the lowest grade I ever earned throughout the course of my education. And by education, I mean since kindergarten. But seriously though, why the heck does a 5th grade special ed teacher need to take economics? I'm pretty sure I understand that when the economy is bad, I get less money to buy pencils and erasers. No, I had to waste time and money on a class that was absolutely pointless. But I'm not discussing it...) One of the online classes was geography and for a portion of our grade, we had to complete several maps of various geographic regions in the world, and by complete I mean color. Like with colored pencils. Like I do in my 5th grade classroom. But whatever, it was easy.
Unfortunately, the world, or I should say I, wasn't as technologically advanced in 2003 as I obviously am in 2010, so I had to physically take the maps to the instructor since there was no way to teleport them to his office. (No! The horror! A personal, face to face contact?? Dreadful...) Now, I mentioned that I was working at my mom's office. The office was a fair distance from our house and since we were both going to work at the same time, and coming home at the same time, there was no sense in driving separately. So I would often ride with her to work and home. I had my latest series of maps completed flawlessly, so I was planning on taking the car over lunch and turning them in. Lunchtime arrived, I jumped in my mom's gold Cadillac and set out for the college. As I approached the school, perhaps 4 or 5 blocks away, tragedy struck. There was something in the gutter area of the street that blew the right front tire, which caused the entire car to lurch toward the curb. This unfortunate lurch rammed the tire rim into the curb, which pretty much bent it all to hell, which in turn, continued to shred the tire. Expletives flew from my mouth and I quickly turned onto a side street.
Now, I'm sure you're all thinking, it's 2003 in this story. Just pick up that handy dandy cell phone everyone seems to always have plastered to their ear and call for help. Well, I did have a cell phone. I had a delightful plan with my then fiance, now husband, with T-Mobile. Unfortunately, because it was 2003 and T-Mobile hadn't yet tapped into the Catherine Zeta Jones sales pitch, there was no T-Mobile service in that entire town. We had discovered that towards downtown you could pick up some service, so I got out of the now defunct Cadillac and started walking around with my phone in the air like every cell phone commercial of the time depicted when proving their service was superior. I finally was able to reach my brother, who then reached my dad, who then came to my rescue. Of course, I felt terrible that I mutilated my mom's car like that, but my parents were pretty forgiving after a short amount of time. Plus, I got my maps turned in, and I believe I got an A in that class.
Fast forward to the spring of 2007. We bought our car in August of 2006, so you can see it was not very old, which makes this story even more painful. I was 5 months pregnant and it was a Saturday afternoon. I was heading to town to meet some co-workers for a trip to the nearest Chili's for dinner. As I came into town, I ran to the ATM. I collected my cash and drove to the exit. I was easing out into traffic when my car dropped into the biggest damn pothole I've ever seen. Unfortunately, I hadn't seen it until after I felt the bottom of my car reach China. (I blame my poor eyesight) I drove a little ways with that "Oh, I hope no one saw that...." look on my face, and pulled off into a parking lot. I waddled out to look, but didn't see any visible damage to the tire. I shrugged my shoulders to no one in particular, got in the car, and kept on my way. I then decided I wouldn't be able to make it to the nearest Chili's (45 minutes, by the way) without an ice cold fountain Coke, so I pulled into the gas station. I went in, filled my cup, paid my cash and walked out. When I walked out, there was a very nice man standing by my car who kindly asked me if I knew that I had a flat tire. My right front tire. I laughed as tears began to form and kindly informed him that I wasn't surprised as I just hit a huge pothole. I tried to call my husband, but he was working nights at the time, so he was asleep and didn't answer. So I had to call my father in law. Luckily, he came right up (this town is very small, you can get anywhere in about 5 minutes, thank goodness) and he changed the tire for me, cussing the Germans the entire time. (I drive a Volkswagen and apparently their bolts and things are slightly different than anything he'd seen, so it was a tad bit frustrating.) In the meantime, my hubby calls me frantically because the people I'm meeting have been calling the house repeatedly wondering where I am, which of course leads him to automatically believe I'm lying dead in a ditch somewhere, which I guess might not be far from the truth considering the circumstances. I assure him I'm fine, the tire is almost finished being changed, and soon I am on my way to a delicious meal of Chili's chicken strips. (Trust me on this, they are scrumptious.)
This brings us to the present. Tonight, I went into town to run an errand. I was minding my own business, driving calmly and concentrating on the road when out of nowhere, another giant pothole jumped out in front of me. (At least that's what I'll swear in court!) The tire didn't blow up or go flat, but there is a baseball size knot sticking out the side of it, so that can't be good. I had to hitch a ride back home with my father in law (he's like the Lone Ranger or something) and tomorrow my husband will be dealing with the aftermath of yet another issue between me and the right front tire. I guess you could say one thing about me. At least I'm consistent!