Humble Pie... Delicious!!
Oct. 5th, 2010 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
waitingmanYesterday, while filling OBluV8 with its quasi-weekly drain on the planet's fossil fuel, we saw a guy waiting at the service station while an NRMA serviceman changed a tyre for him...
The 'Bloke' in me was outraged! "What kind of modern world is it when a man can't perform a simple task like changing a car's tyre?!?!" I railed to my long-suffering partner, who, wisely, refused to take the debate.
So, last night we decided to go to the Imax Cinema at DarlingHarderHarbour to see the extended 3D edition of Avatar. We parked OBluV8 behind the Capitol Theatre near Chinatown & walked... our concession to a relatively lazy weekend where the recently declared 'Fit by February' campaign hit a fork in the road, accompanied by a knife, spoon, plates & fine food on them. Anyway, Avatar was as visually striking as the only other time we'd seen it, only there was significantly more striking, due to about 20 minutes extra screen time given to running, riding & flying over the CG marvels of Pandora.
After a light midnight snack in Chinatown (oh dear, the campaign has hit a chopstick in the road!), we walked back to the car, avoiding the cute baby ringtail possums running around the streets (At least, that's what we decided they were, certainly not anything Norvegically related to Ratti...). As we neared OBluV8, I pointed at the car parked nearest to us & observed "Either this guy has remarkably low-profile tyres, or he's in trouble", as his left rear tyre was considerably saggy-looking. My L-SP then looked at OBluV8 & hoped that we weren't in trouble too, as our same tyre, which isn't a low-profile one, was even saggier. Oh dear.
My first thought was that we'd reversed over something while parking. L-SP's first thought was to get in the car & lock the doors, convinced it was a mugging/robbery tactic to prevent our getaway. With no assailants in sight, I nursed the 3 & 3/4 wheeled OBluV8 to a nearby 24hr service station frequented by taxis where I thought we'd pump up the tyre & see if it was beyond salvation or not.
Or not. This place was crawling with taxis both mobile & stationary, but was lacking a "working" air hose, apparently. The nearest alternative was a service station 2km down the road in Redfern, another suburb not known for quiet nightlife... So, on 3 & 1/2 wheels we went. On arrival, the air pump was present, but there no hose in sight & it's one of those places where, after a nominal night hour, you can only communicate with staff through bullet-proof glass & a series of metal drawers for cash & goods. After some banter, the air hose was crammed into one of these drawers & its swift return was demanded. We soon established that a screw firmly driven into the tyre wouldn't help it's re-inflation with any degree of longevity, so I opened the boot/trunk & pulled out the spare tyre. I'd never changed a tyre on OBluV8, in fact I hadn't changed a tyre since some time in the 1990s, but it's hardly rocket science... right? There'd be no calling roadside assistance for this bloke!!
Problem 1. was getting the insubstantial-looking jack out of its nook in the corner of the boot/trunk. After a little struggle... & a little read of the car-owner's manual, I had the jack & then wondered where the wheel brace was. There didn't seem to be one & it transpired that neither the service station, nor a visiting taxi driver had one. "When" I railed at the rhetorical universe, "did service stations decide that dropping the 'service' was good for the station?!?". L-SP again, wisely didn't take the debate. A further read of the manual revealed that the jack handle actually doubled as the wheel brace, so we were sorted. Okay ~ get the jack under the car in a likely looking spot & commence winding it up. Did I mention it had been raining on & off during these events? No?? Well, that's when it started again & when I had a lot of trouble with the jack handle & the jack itself, the top of which decided, somehow, to not sit flat under the crossmember I'd selected as a lifting point. Wind the jack down, re-position & try again. Much swearing, hissing of breath & internal frustration ensued.
At this point, my L-SP quietly suggested calling the NRMA to do it for us. 10 fruitless, frustrating minutes & 2 more, slightly louder, suggestions later, I capitulated... defeated by the $2 jack supplied with a $35,000 car. I didn't even bother asking the station attendants for a better jack, just let them get on with stocktaking behind their bulletproof defences... it was Redfern at 2am, after all. L-SP insisted I get into the car with her & we lock the doors for security.
So the NRMA came to change my tyre for me.
I wanted to crawl into a hole & die... my blokehood shrivelled & useless ~ couldn't change a tyre, couldn't be relied on as sufficient protection for my damsel at night... O Fortune, how you mock me!!!
The 'Bloke' in me was outraged! "What kind of modern world is it when a man can't perform a simple task like changing a car's tyre?!?!" I railed to my long-suffering partner, who, wisely, refused to take the debate.
So, last night we decided to go to the Imax Cinema at Darling
After a light midnight snack in Chinatown (oh dear, the campaign has hit a chopstick in the road!), we walked back to the car, avoiding the cute baby ringtail possums running around the streets (At least, that's what we decided they were, certainly not anything Norvegically related to Ratti...). As we neared OBluV8, I pointed at the car parked nearest to us & observed "Either this guy has remarkably low-profile tyres, or he's in trouble", as his left rear tyre was considerably saggy-looking. My L-SP then looked at OBluV8 & hoped that we weren't in trouble too, as our same tyre, which isn't a low-profile one, was even saggier. Oh dear.
My first thought was that we'd reversed over something while parking. L-SP's first thought was to get in the car & lock the doors, convinced it was a mugging/robbery tactic to prevent our getaway. With no assailants in sight, I nursed the 3 & 3/4 wheeled OBluV8 to a nearby 24hr service station frequented by taxis where I thought we'd pump up the tyre & see if it was beyond salvation or not.
Or not. This place was crawling with taxis both mobile & stationary, but was lacking a "working" air hose, apparently. The nearest alternative was a service station 2km down the road in Redfern, another suburb not known for quiet nightlife... So, on 3 & 1/2 wheels we went. On arrival, the air pump was present, but there no hose in sight & it's one of those places where, after a nominal night hour, you can only communicate with staff through bullet-proof glass & a series of metal drawers for cash & goods. After some banter, the air hose was crammed into one of these drawers & its swift return was demanded. We soon established that a screw firmly driven into the tyre wouldn't help it's re-inflation with any degree of longevity, so I opened the boot/trunk & pulled out the spare tyre. I'd never changed a tyre on OBluV8, in fact I hadn't changed a tyre since some time in the 1990s, but it's hardly rocket science... right? There'd be no calling roadside assistance for this bloke!!
Problem 1. was getting the insubstantial-looking jack out of its nook in the corner of the boot/trunk. After a little struggle... & a little read of the car-owner's manual, I had the jack & then wondered where the wheel brace was. There didn't seem to be one & it transpired that neither the service station, nor a visiting taxi driver had one. "When" I railed at the rhetorical universe, "did service stations decide that dropping the 'service' was good for the station?!?". L-SP again, wisely didn't take the debate. A further read of the manual revealed that the jack handle actually doubled as the wheel brace, so we were sorted. Okay ~ get the jack under the car in a likely looking spot & commence winding it up. Did I mention it had been raining on & off during these events? No?? Well, that's when it started again & when I had a lot of trouble with the jack handle & the jack itself, the top of which decided, somehow, to not sit flat under the crossmember I'd selected as a lifting point. Wind the jack down, re-position & try again. Much swearing, hissing of breath & internal frustration ensued.
At this point, my L-SP quietly suggested calling the NRMA to do it for us. 10 fruitless, frustrating minutes & 2 more, slightly louder, suggestions later, I capitulated... defeated by the $2 jack supplied with a $35,000 car. I didn't even bother asking the station attendants for a better jack, just let them get on with stocktaking behind their bulletproof defences... it was Redfern at 2am, after all. L-SP insisted I get into the car with her & we lock the doors for security.
So the NRMA came to change my tyre for me.
I wanted to crawl into a hole & die... my blokehood shrivelled & useless ~ couldn't change a tyre, couldn't be relied on as sufficient protection for my damsel at night... O Fortune, how you mock me!!!
