Archive | February, 2015

Tire Deflategate

11 Feb


Years ago I had noticed my tire had deflated a bit. This had never happened to me before, but no biggie. Being the strong-willed, independent – albeit awkward – woman that I am, I’ll go to the gas station and inflate the tire myself. How hard could it be?

You just…uh… you… aim the hose at the tire, say a quick prayer to the Patron Saint of tire pressure and voila! Right? Whatever! “I’ll figure it out”, I told myself, shooing away help.

35 gut-wrenching seconds later my tire was completely flat.

I had somehow DE-flated the tire instead of inflated. I had to call a nearby friend to come rescue me. This incident has haunted me for years. It was my very own Deflategate.

So, you can imagine the panic I felt when I got in the car today and the dashboard lit up letting me know that one (or all?) of my tires were low.

I got out to inspect the tires. I walked around the vehicle and kicked each of the tires. Hmmm {rubbing chin, adjusting glasses} I see.

Who am I kidding? I had no idea!! All the tires looked about the same. Maybe the one on the front left was lower than the rest…?

I text the Boyfriend who threw a lot of buzzwords, like “PSI” and “Footprint” and “Valve” at me – oh, forget it! I’ll just do this myself – again!

I grabbed Panicky Dog for moral support and we were off to the gas station. I refused to fail for a second time. Besides, the best way to get rid of a fear is to face it head-on – or something like that. I don’t know. I was petrified!

The scene that unfolded at the gas station can only be described as an exercise is spazzery.

First of all, the directions on the machine did NOT match the equipment attached to said machine. Directions mentioned a silver gauge with multiple buttons. What I held in my hand was a black hose with a gold knob on the end. Where’s the silver thingymajig?!

{I feel like you’re setting me up for failure, manufacturer! [squint]}

I then inserted the requisite 75 cents (wasn’t air supposed to be free?). A strong gush of air blew out of the hose, kicking up dead leaves and filth into my face.

{[cough] Perfect}

As I pulled the hose across the car to the offending tire, it knotted up and would not reach.

{What is THIS fuckery?}


As I wrestled with the triple knot and had air and leaves blow in my face, a group of onlookers gathered offering no support or assistance – only laughter and judgment.

{Panicky dog looks away, pretending not to know me. I don’t blame her}

I managed to shove the gold knob toward a valve on the tire and pressed with the full weight of my body until all the bought air ran out.

{Falls against tire, relieved the battle is done}

The tire did not deflate this time


But did not appear to inflate either


I drove back home and told Boyfriend he had to fix it. I quit! I’ve met my match: the Deflated Tire.