The Tire

Saturday, 29 January 2011

Today I went to work for a few hours in the morning. As I was leaving work, I went out to my car and saw that the front driver’s-side tire was flat. I mean like riding-on-the-rim flat. The tire was fine this morning; I’m sure I would’ve noticed if it was THAT low. I must’ve driven on something like a nail or a bevy of porcupines.

I jacked up the car and took the hubcap and nuts off with no problem. I then removed the spare from the trunk. I then tried to take the old tire off of the bolts. No luck. I used the tire iron as leverage, but still…no luck. To make matters worse, it was rather cold outside and very slushy on the ground, so I was filthy.

I went back into my job and asked the lady at the security deask if someone would be able to help me. She paged her male co-worker who came over to me and said, basically, that he couldn’t help me.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Well, mostly for insurance reasons,” he said.

“I don’t get what insurance has to do with it…?” I said. “I’m just asking as a fellow human being…”

But he said that if he was to get injured, then I might think the company is at fault. Yes, it baffled me too. He said my best bet was to ask one of my co-workers to help me. (Um…I thought I just did.) I told him that none of the people from my department were at work at the moment, since it’s a Saturday. He said, “Yeah, well, with staffing issues, I really can’t go out there.”

I’m not sure what sort of pansy-ass excuse this was, especially since he already gave me an iron-clad litigious reason, but it’s just plain stupid. How many members of security need to be “on staff” on a Saturday morning? And, if something was to happen, say a theft or a medical emergency, it’s not like I would say, “Sorry, pal, but you’re helping me change out this tire and I refuse to let you go assist with that actual emergency.”

Anyway, I went back out to my car. Still couldn’t get the tire off. I called my wife to have her come pick me up. She asked i there was anyone else I could ask for help, and a large guy happened to park and get out of his car right then. “Excuse me sir,” I shouted, “Can you help me get my tire off my car real quick?”

“Uh, no, I can’t do that,” he said.

So I got back on the phone and said to my wife, “That guy won’t help me either. I guess no one cares about their co-workers anymore, everyone’s too self-absorbed now.” I said this loud enough so that guy could hear me. Ha! Take that, large, burly man!

So, Jennifer came and picked me up, and my car will be spending the weekend at my job.

Meanwhile: my stereotype of security officers has been confirmed.

Sunday, 30 January 2011

So, after going about 7 years without stepping foot inside a McDonald’s restaurant, today marked the second day in a row that I was inside one.

See, last night, with Owen at his grandparents’, Jennifer and I decided to rent a movie. Of course, we already had Inception at home waiting for us (via Netflix), but we figured we could squeeze in two movies. So we looked up the Oscar nominees for Best Picture, and selected a few that sounded decent. Then we looked up the location of the nearest Red Box. Turns out, the nearest one is inside a McDonald’s.

We rented The Social Network, as that was the first Best Picture nominee we spotted on their menu.

This was my first time using a Red Box and, I gotta say, I liked it. Of course, since we are Netlflix customers, the Red Box is kind of redundant, but I could see how, if you suddenly find yourself with some time on your hands one evening, a Red Box is the way to go.

Also: we used a code that we found online, so we didn’t even have to pay. Free movie! Sweet!

Monday, 31 January 2011

After securing a ride to work thanks to my co-worker John (damn, I’mĀ glad he wasn’t worried about the insurance if we had gotten into an accident), my first task upon arriving at work today was to go over to my car and lather the bolts in WD-40.

After spending the next three hours trying to rid myself of a certain WD-40 smell, another co-worker accompanied me out to my car. We first tried hitting the tire with rubber mallets. Then, we put the nuts back on, I got into the driver’s seat, and turned the wheel from one extreme tot hte other. Still no success. So then, I started the car and drove forward and backward about five feet. Still no success. So then I repeated the five feet forward and backward stunt. Still no luck. Finally, we positioned ourselves behind the dirty tire on the dirty ground and, together, we hammered (malleted?) the tire off.

He was kind enough to take me to Firestone which, contrary to their name, sells neither fire nor stone. However, they do sell tires.

The last time I had to change a tire on the Cavalier, I was on the side of the road on I-94. I remember thinking how godawful it was that I was risking mylife like that on the side of the road, but then I thought about how lucky I was that it was such a beautiful day (this was in June 2006). So, today, and back on Saturday, I tried to think about the positive aspects: yes it was cold, yes the security guy was an asshole, yes the ground was dirty. But the good things were that I was safely in a parking lot. Additionally, I was in the parking lot of my employer, so if need be, I couldn’ve left me car there for an extended period of time. Also, it was daytime, so that was nice.

Anyway, if anyone needs a tire changed, I have some tricks up my sleeve now. I can’t actually help you (due to insurance and staffing reasons), but I can provide you with a list of idea on how to remove a stubborn tire. Provided you sign this waiver first.

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2 Responses to The Tire

  1. david says:

    I had the same thing happen to one of my wheels. I was also in my employer’s parking lot. I didn’t think to ask the security people for assistance though. Instead I went to someone even less likely to help — a JW. To be fair, if I were still a Witness, he would have readily helped.

    It was a real test. Would he offer some advice? It wasn’t really work-related. Would he come out and lend a hand? And if so, would he do it in complete silence?

    To my surprise, he joined me in whacking the crap out of my wheel. In the end, it was a third guy who got the wheel off. He stood facing away from the car and used his heel to stomp on the wheel. Each time his heel hit it would spin the tire a bit so the next shot would be in a different spot.

    Cars, bah!

  2. James says:

    Wow, that’s some story. I’m surprised that JW helped you, but he probably figured if he didn’t, it would look bad to your other co-workers.

    Yes, I agree: cars, bah!

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