Diary of a SubUrban Housewife

New Shoes

So, I’m driving to work this morning. I might point out that for a change I was on time. I was chatting away to my husband on the phone. I was telling him that I was going to try to get out of the office right after my construction meeting, which should be over at 2:30. I wanted to get my tires checked. I thought I needed new tires. He agreed. I would like to point out that I was traveling in the fast lane at about 65 miles and hour having this conversation.

About five minutes after I hang up the phone I hear this really nasty noise. As I hear the noise (still traveling at 65 I will remind you) the steering wheel really starts to shimmy and the car doesn’t feel quite right (to put it mildly). Hmmmmmm?????

I make my way over to the right lane. I would like to pull over to the shoulder to see what’s going on. I suspect I’ve had a blowout, but never having experienced one I wasn’t quite sure. But on the 134 Freeway the shoulder is only about four feet wide then there is a sharp drop-off into oblivion. Oooooh. Scary. And traffic is whizzing by at at least 65 miles per hour.

I slow down. The car stops shimmy-ing. I figure I’m OK for a little while at least. I merge onto the 5 South.

The 5 is a beautiful thing (in parts). Where I was there are five lanes in each direction and a very nice wide shoulder. To the right of the shoulder is at least another ten feet of unpaved area.

I pull my trusty Volvo over off the freeway to the far right of the shoulder, while still staying on the paved part, right by a call box (so I have some sort of landmark). I get out to see what’s going on.

Yup. Flat tire. Front left tire. Flat. As. A. Pancake.

I get out my cell phone. I call the office and tell them I’m going to be late (yeah, yeah, yeah, so what else is new). I dig through my wallet for my AAA card. I notice that the card expired December 15. Oopsie. Today is January 12. Well...I figure I’ll call them anyway and throw myself at their mercy if need be.

Well, it wasn’t necessary. We were still well within our “grace” period. I gave the attendant my location by the call box number. She knew exactly where I was and said a tow truck would be there within 20 minutes.

So, I’ve got 20 minutes to kill, coffee, ciggies, and a fully-charged cell phone. I’m stylin. I call the hub and give him and update. Call the office again for another update. I check my voicemail. It’s all good. If you don’t count the fact that cars are still whizzing past me at 65, because due to some freak of sig alerts, there was absolutely no traffic on my commute path this morning.

And I’m here to tell you, in Los Angeles, the shoulder is apparently considered to be extra pavement for some people who travel in the slow lane. Pay no attention to that solid white line motorists. Or the bright red Volvo with its hazard lights on. Just drive within six inches of my door. Not really a problem.

In less than the 20 minutes promised Eddie shows up to fix my flat. Eddie was at least 70 years old, had really bad body odor, reeked of last night’s beer, and had teeth that looked like he had never consulted with a dental professional. But, I have never been so glad to see someone in my entire life.

Eddie took my mini-spare out of the trunk. He checked the inflation on it (it needed air, which he provided from a handy little compressor in the back of his truck). He changed my tire. He put the bad one in the trunk.

So....I had a nasty blowout at 65 mph this morning. My uber safe car got me to a safe place to stop. I had my AAA card. I had a cell phone. It was daylight. Life is good.

And because that wasn’t all too much good luck in a really nasty situation, the very next exit off the freeway lead me right to a Costco, where I could get new tires.

And because the gods weren’t really smiling enough on me, I pulled into the parking lot. Since it was only about 9:30 I figured I will have to wait for the tire center to open at 10 with the store, but I notice that all the garage doors are open and people are walking in to the tire entrance. For some reason that still remains a mystery to me, the employees of the tire center decided to open early and were seeing customers.

I found the last four (yes, I needed four new tires it turns out) Z rated high-performance tires that they had. Yes, the lovely Volvita requires high performance tires. I flirted with the guy who took my order. He moved me to the front of the line. I was out of there in about 45 minutes.

OK, I was $425 poorer when I left, but I like to think of my lovely new tires as new shoes for my car. And who doesn’t love shoe shopping? So, my snappy red car got a new pair of Manolo’s. The girls on Sex And The City would be so pleased.

Posted by beth at January 14, 2004 09:30 PM