Yesterday as a heavily guarded convoy of trucks loaded with euros was making it’s way through the city’s main arteries the traffic has been completely stopped to let the convoy pass and thus causing a traffic jam worse than it usually is during a rush hour. Since I was completely unaware of this traffic situation, I was happily walking to my car after work, already making a grocery shopping list in my mind and was about to join in the rush or rather the jam. Only I didn’t. As I’ve walked to my car and I have sworn wholeheartedly upon discovering that one of the tires was completely and utterly flat. Damn and damnation! Here we go again. I’ve popped my trunk toying for a moment with a thought that I might find an air pump there, which would allow me to at least drive to the nearest repair shop. No, no such luck.
What does a girl do, when she has a minor car problem she can’t solve all by herself? I don’t know about you, but if it’s nothing very serious I try to avoid calling a tow service and instead I just make a call to my brother. Ah, my savior! My personal go to car problem solver guy 🙂 Once again he’d rushed to my rescue while I was freezing my ass waiting for the car to be up and running again. A very pleasant special forces guy, clearly a back-up to the euro convoy, came over to ask if he could be of assistance. Alas no. He did not have a pump, and without one nothing could be done. Ah, what a shame 😉 Some 30 minutes later my brother has arrived, and I hoped that I’ll be on the move in no time at all. My hopes for a speedy fix were just as quickly dashed. The puncture in the tire was letting air faster than it could be pumped in, so it was time for plan B – putting on a spare tire. Off went the bad tire, on went the spare one. No, wait, it wasn’t all that easy. WTF?! Since this was the first time I’d had to use the spare on this car I was up to an unpleasant surprise – the spare tire I was carrying in my trunk all this time does not even belong to this car.
With no spare to spare me, and with a punctured and totally useless tire at hand, and with my teeth already starting to chatter from cold and shivers setting in into my body, I somehow had a light bulb over my head moment – Hey, there is a repair shop nearby, so maybe it could be possible to roll/carry the bad tire over there and get a quick fix. I googled to check if they were open at this hour, only to learn that they were for just another 40 minutes or so. So we’ve had some hurry up to do.
At the shop.
Me. Hello. Could you please help me with the punctured tire?
Repairman. Dunno. I’ve got plenty of work left and my working hours are almost finished.
Me. (Some light flirting) But I just need this puncture fixed, and we’ve already brought the tire all this way.
Repairman. We-e-eell, since the tire’s already off the car, let me see it.
Five minutes later it was done and ready to be rolled all the way back to the car. Another half an hour later after my brother was done struggling to put the tire back on in the semidarkness of the evening, I finally could get the hell outta here and get my ass to my warm and all cozy home and liters of hot beverages to help melt away some of the ice that has settled into my bones over the course of the evening.