So I go out to sleep in my car at work for my lunch break. My paranoid eyes always makes me think I'm seeing something that's not there, but on this day, they latched onto something unusual and, turns out, scary: A bulge/blister/bump on my passenger-side tire. Honestly, I didn't think anything of it. I just thought I needed to deflate the air in that overinflated tire (didn't help), and then I went inside my car to nap. But that bubble concerned me anyway, so I had to go to my cell and Google, "is it dangerous to have a bump on the side of your tire?" And all the entries in the search said, "Hell yes, it's fucking dangerous!"
(Aside: I seem to have more problems with tires on this car than I ever had with my old one. Is it because it's a subcompact whose tires are naturally lower profile? I remember getting one of my tires punctured the Friday before Labor Weekend, and now this. By the way, that bubble is probably the result of hitting one pothole, or one too many potholes. Goddamn potholes.)
After making a couple calls to see if I could get a tire after work, I decided that after work I needed to swap out that tire for the spare. But dammit, my mechanic screwed those lug nuts in so tight I couldn't loosen them. I did not believe at all that I needed to call AAA, but because I am too weak, I had to. Luckily, even during afternoon rush hour traffic and him helping me being led astray by his Google Maps, the guy who was about to save me arrived at work after one hour. The last time I called AAA (and I think it was when I had to stop the minivan around St. Thomas for what was a broken alternator), it was at least twice that long. And after using WD-40 and a long-handle lug nut remover to get as much torque working, he got the bad tire off. Roadside assistants are angels, they truly are.
Also angels are, I now realize, the only car mechanic in the neighborhood that's open evenings. Why aren't there more car shops that are open evenings, or weekends for that matter? Cars don't break down at night or on weekends? Anyway, the place I babied my car to was the only one around the area open at 7 at night. And even though they couldn't get the same exact tire for me that evening, they can do so this morning. Also, they did what I asked them to: Check the other tires to make sure they're fine, and to check the air pressure on the spare (even though I asked the roadside assistant to check and to pump it up. I always forget to check the air in the spare).
So I talked about having plans ruined. Specifically, I wanted to eat at either Culver's or Potbelly, two places where I can get free dessert for my birthday. I then wanted to go home, look through the mail, call Mother about the mail if need be, then maybe nap before I caught the 8 o'clock showing of Ready Or Not 2: Here I Come. But after I got everything arranged for the (hopefully) quick tire swap this morning, I got my car back, spare tire still affixed, and I still had time to make the movie. I didn't feel completely safe that I could drive to the theater to watch when I could, and maybe should, drive back home. But a mixture of relief that people were able to help me and defiance that I didn't want my car trouble to stop me from the fun I planned on having compelled me to get to the movie. And I made it in time. And the film was ... um, bloody and profane, but OK, just like the first one.
One problem after I left the shop and before I went into the theater. I locked the door with the key fob, but I didn't see the light flicker on indicating everything got locked. I then noticed that the hood was slightly open. Now I noticed when I was at the shop, looking through the window into the bay where the mechanics were looking at my car, that the hood was opened up, presumably for the guys to go through their customary check of everything in my car even though I was just there to get a tire replaced. I didn't think anything else of it, though, because I assumed they would slam the hood shut. But they didn't. I didn't drive really fast; you're not supposed to on a spare, plus I used side streets to get from the mechanic to the theater. But I realized that I drove several miles with the hood open. The hood of my old car flew open while I was driving to the gym a baker's dozen years ago, and that was the scariest fucking thing that's happened to me on the road ... well, OK, maybe top five. My point is is that it seems very, very dangerous to drive with the hood open. I don't think anything got ruined, and yet I feel my car is beyond repair because I drove it with the hood open. Look, if anything did get damaged, I probably won't know till much, much later. Fuckin' A, man -- these guys were quick, and they treated me well. But they fucking forgot to slam my fuckin' hood shut?!
No, I probably won't bring it up. Again, if there's damage because I drove with the hood open, how would I know? Oh, well, you take the head-slappingly bad with the good when you're in a jam. Hopefully they can just get me my new tire and do so quickly and easily.
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