The "slow leak" I had in my tire wasn't very slow after all and the it had been losing pressure within a matter of days after filling it back up. Such a pain in the arse. So I took it over to the trusted tire place. The man who was working there was incredibly helpful and even though he wasn't sure it could be fixed, he decided to give it a whirl anyway. After he took the tire off, he brought me back to show me how someone had attempted to patch it. It was shoddy workmanship at best. To be honest, the way the goo dried, it basically looked like a small dog had defecated in there and left its surprise just for me. I half expected it to smell. So he went to work and pulled it out, patched it the proper way, and since I was watching him in action, I saw a nice little fire show, too. I paid for the services with a smile and was on my way feeling happy and confident it would hold (it's still going strong!).
When I was at Starbucks, there was nearly a hitch in my grand plan for the day when I almost didn't get my beverage of choice, but before I was overcome by an irrational level of disappointment, the barista came back and told me all was well in the world and I could have my beloved iced beverage. In a matter of minutes I was on my way to Nana's with the wind blowing in my hair. I was prepared to sip on my drink while teaching Nana some things, but then she told me about her tire. I walked out to the garage and wouldn't you know, it was flat. Not flat like my tire had been, but FLAT. Like, don't even try to drive it to the gas station to fill it up with air because you'll be riding on the rim kind of flat. So, I did what every good granddaughter would do. I called AAA.
And if you really believed that last sentence, you obviously don't know me very well. Please. I changed the damn tire myself! Thank you dad for teaching me to be self-sufficient when it comes to my car! Don't get me wrong, if I had gotten a flat on the freeway, or on a dark winding road, or in a seemingly dangerous locale, I'm calling someone. If it's a flat in a garage, or a parking lot, or somewhere I don't think I'll die, I'm taking care of business. Like when I changed Jenn's tire while three guys stood around being absolutely useless...
So, I told Nana not to worry. I'd take care of it. I took her spare tire to the gas station to fill it with air, got the flat tire off, the spare tire on, the flat in the trunk, and we were on our way back to the tire shop I had left earlier that morning. Needless to say, the man was surprised to see me back so soon, but he was relieved it wasn't for the tire I brought in initially. He was also clearly impressed that I had changed a tire. Is it that surprising? I mean, is that something most people don't know how to do these days? Whatever the case, they, they repaired it, mounted it, and we were driving back home in under 30 minutes. Unfortunately, by the time I left (which was several hours later) it was losing air again. It seemed like it was all for naught, but at least her spare was filled up and ready to go today for another round at the tire shop.
Long story short, I'm the girl you want in your car when you're on a road trip.