My Poor Baby

Yesterday was a bad day for my car. I drove through what I thought was old smeared paint in a parking lot. Turns out it was fresh, wet paint and it got all over my tire. No big deal. Except when I drove home that fresh wet paint flung off the spinning wheel and splattered all underneath the wheel well. By the time I got home to rinse it off it was too far dried. Thank goodness it didn't get on the pretty metallic blue paint job. 'Cause then stuff would have really hit the fan. But still, I have a speckled undercarriage that is quite visible. Hopefully, it will eventually wash away.

Then, pulling up to dinner the 'low tire pressure' light came on. Interesting. I figured it was a fluke. I remembered the sales guy saying it could sometimes come on and it might reset itself. I couldn't possibly need air in my tires a month and a half into owning the car. Or if I did, I didn't check my tire pressure on the old car nearly enough.

Leaving last night the light was still on. Okay, okay I'll get air tomorrow....KIRPLUNK! The whole underside of the car hit with a grotesque crash as we cruised over a speed bump. Why you might ask? Because the right rear tire was completely flat. Luckily the hubby was there as I have managed to get out of changing all of my flat tires thus far. Over a decade of driving in three different vehicles and I have never once changed my own flat. And, until today, I have never once had to take the flat to get plugged.

Today, I lugged it to the shop for repair. Two hours of my life later...I was finally back on the road with four 'almost as good as new' (as the service guy stated) tires. And a spare tire rattling around in the back because they somehow managed to loose the thingamajig that secures the tire in place, even though I made a point of placing it in the trunk near that jack last night. No problem, they ordered me a new one. And then informed me ordering the part was 'more trouble than it was worth.' But they are so great that order it they did, without my asking them to, and I can pick it up on Friday.

Maybe I'm just not patient enough, but I feel two hours is a bit ridiculous to plug a tire. Not to mention I was slightly put off by the comments about returning me an almost good as new car, short one part, with the implication it was my fault. So when the service guy told me to expect a survey about my experience I thought, don't expect much. Then he informed me 'The only acceptable answer is....?'

[insert blank stare here, as I had no clue what the heck he was talking about]

'Tens. Because nine is a failure."

[insert second blank stare because two hours of my life are gone and a perfect score you're not going to get]