Tire

Tonight, I found myself cussing a series of broken air pumps and shredding a tire in an attempt to drive home. This landed me on my side on a parking lot in ten degree weather with a borrowed jack, trying to pull an ex-tire off of bent lug nuts.

Two hours and one broken lug stud later, I'm nearly done. All that's left is tightening the remaining pieces, lowering the car, and driving off. Then a friendly man drove up in a large pickup with one of those fancy window decals of a confederate flag covering his entire back window. I was put off by his ride but excited at the possibility of someone offering to help, as my arms felt rubbery and parts of my face had long-since frozen off. Unsurpisingly, though, the friendly truck man immediately gained my contempt.

Him: Why ain't yer boyfriend hurr helpin' ya? Me: Because I don't have one, and I can change my own tires. Him: Well you should let me help. It's cold out and it dudn't look like you're loosening things right. Me: Thanks, but I'm almost done. Him: (blah blah blah, I want to help, blah blah blah, C'mon!, you're a stupid girl, blah Me: Alright, sure. I could use a break. Him: How 'bout you hop in and I take you for a ride first? Me: ... Why? Him: As payment for helpin' ya out. You know... Me: Oh. No. Not happening. Like I said, I've got this. Thanks anyway. Him: Wehlp, have fun puttin' yer tire on wrong, ya dumb bitch! squealing rubber

I spent the rest of the endeavor daydreaming of things to do to make his life confusingly inconvenient...