July 19, 2005
[flat] 8:14 PM
I've had a flat tire 3 times in my life.
one
The first time I got a flat tire it was driving to a final during a monsoon that was a result of a hurrican in the Gulf. It literally popped and I was lucky enough to swerve off the road and into a strip mall parking lot on Westheimer, where I got completely soaked putting on the spare. It really is quite amazing that I was able to put the jack in the right place to raise my car, let alone doing the task in rain so hard it almost hurt.
two
I was working the holiday season at a shoe store in the Galleriea. This was perhaps my least favorite job I've ever had, and I often even forget to mention it when going through my employment history. I worked there for only a month, and the only saving grace was my co-worker Rick. Rick had, like, -5% bodyfat, worked out every morning, and had perhaps the most perfect body anyone could ever want. Dull as a brick, nice as can be, and hotter than anything you've ever seen anywhere else. One night after we closed we walked together to our cars, where we noticed my car had somewhere along the way gotten a flat. Rick, being the hot gentleman that he was, offered to change my tire for me, and since he didn't want to get his shirt dirty, he took it off. I wish I could tell you that this story couldn't be written any further without turning into porn, but that's sadly not the case.
today
I was going to make a "quick run" to the Art Store to buy a new portfolio for my Mouse Meeting tomorrow. The errand itself was quite quick, but when I got outside my front passenger tire was looking rather deflated. Usually you have to look to see what's caused the flat, but in this case you didn't have to look at all: dead center at the top of the tire was a giant nail. Mocking me. Of course today I chose to park outside (directly under the sun), and not in the parking garage — a decision that probably caused the flat, and would eventually lead to my new tan and grit-stained shorts. I have roadside assisantce from Allstate, but my phone wasn't getting reception (of course) and by the time someone got there to change it I could've been done. So I fixed it like the man that I am.
Besides, afterwards I got to go back into the Art Store and ask Cute Tattooed Manager Jon if I could use the bathroom to wash my hands.
BUTCH!
Posted by: Scott at July 20, 2005 8:56 AM
