Girly Girl at the Car Fix-It Place
The kids were at school. My chores were done. What did I want to do today? The last few days I've been working on sewing myself a new blouse. Yesterday I added the collar and sleeves. All that it still needs are buttons and hemming. I didn't have buttons for it yet, and that would require a trip to the store. Was it worth it?
On the one hand, it snowed yesterday, and the roads were slushy with snow and ice. It was less than 20 degrees outside. I hate driving in the snow. I could find something else to do today.
On the other hand, it wasn't currently snowing, but it might snow later on today, and there is a chance of snow every day for the next week. There might not be a better time to go. And I couldn't finish my blouse until I got buttons.
In the end, I decided to go. I gathered some leftover scraps of cloth that I wanted the buttons to match, scrounged up a coupon, recorded some information from a skirt pattern, just in case I came across some fabric for a skirt to match, and headed out into the snow.
The fabric store is maybe 2 miles from home. I was almost there when I noticed the light staring at me from the dashboard of the van. It looked like a little tire, but with an exclamation mark inside it. Low tire pressure. The vehicle was still driving fine, but I started to wonder if the left side seemed a little lower than the right, or if it was just my imagination. Could cold weather cause low tire pressure? It seemed like I'd heard something like that. Maybe it wasn't anything serious. Maybe it would go away if I ignored it. A girl can dream, can't she?
Carefully, I pulled into the first parking space I came to in front of the fabric store. Climbing out of the van, I looked at the front driver side tire. It did look low. I looked at the back tire. There was definitely more air in it than in the front tire. I looked back at the front tire. It was maybe half the height that it should have been. Good news - it wasn't totally flat, down to the rims. But I'd still have to do something about it. Eventually. I looked at the tires on the other side of the car, and thankfully, they seemed to be okay.
I collected my purse and went into the fabric store. I found some buttons, then browsed the other fabrics for a little while, but didn't end up seeing anything I wanted to get, especially when I knew in the back of my head that I was probably going to have to buy a new tire for the car today. I paid for my purchase - it's always good when I can get out of the fabric store without paying more than $5, and headed back out to the van.
The front tire was still low. We have scouts tonight, and we'll need the van. I needed to get it fixed now. Just a block or two from the fabric store, I knew there were some car... tire... service... places. I couldn't remember which we'd used in the past. I tried calling Steven to tell him what was going on and to ask him which place I should go to (and for moral support... I don't like dealing with car maintenance issues), but his phone went straight to voice mail. No help there. I wondered briefly if I should try to put on the spare tire before I drove any more, but decided not to bother. There was still some air in the tire, and I was only driving a couple blocks. It would be fine. Wouldn't it? I really didn't want to try to change a tire in the slushy, flooding parking lot. I started the engine and set off, pulling into the parking lot of the first car place I came to.
I walked into the foyer area and the first thing I noticed was the smell. I don't know what it was, kind of an oily, rubbery, grungy kind of smell that I've come to associate with places that work with cars, not that I've been in places like that very often. I try to avoid them if at all possible.
A friendly man at the desk greeted me and asked, "What can we do for you today?"
I responded vaguely, "One of my tires is low. I don't know if it's flat or if it just needs air..."
Thankfully, the man didn't laugh at my ignorance. "We'll take a look at it and see." he told me. "Can I get your last name?"
I told him the last name, he typed it into his computer, and the next thing he said was, "Is it the Sienna?"
A little bit shocked, I nodded and told him, "Yeah." Meanwhile my mind was buzzing. Not only had I been here before (I must have blocked out all memory of it for some reason), but apparently I was the only person with our last name in their records, and they already knew the model of my car! Or did someone else with my same last name also have a Toyota Sienna? Was it a case of mistaken identity? What were the chances of that happening?
Hoping for the best, I handed over my keys, then went to wait in the waiting area - a small section with sofas, magazines, a popcorn cart, and a large TV. There were a couple other women there waiting for some brake work on their car. From the collection of drink and food containers around them, I'd guess they'd been there for a few hours. I sent Steven a text, to let him know where I was. I wasn't really excited to be spending hundreds of dollars on tires without letting him know what was going on first.
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, the man from the counter rolled out a tire and called me over to have a look at it. Poking out from the side wall of the tire was a screw. It wasn't a little screw, either. It was a big screw, the kind you'd use to connect two by fours if you were building a house. Just the rounded head was protruding, surrounded by little bubbles of escaping air. He told me a patch wouldn't keep air from escaping, and we would need to replace it. The other front tire was also showing signs of wear and would need to be replaced soon. They could get me two new tires, they'd match the back tires, and I'd be good to go for just $275.55. I had no idea if that was a good price for tires or not. I believed him that the tire in front of me couldn't be patched. I could very easily believe that the other front tire was in need of replacing too. Trusting to his expertise, I told him to go ahead. He rolled the tire away, and I returned to my spot on the sofa to update Steven as to what was going on, and to continue my perusal of a Family Circle magazine.
About 45 minutes and two magazines later, they were done. I paid for the tires, retrieved my keys, and was advised to bring the van back in for an alignment check someday when the weather was better. (Because that isn't something they can check in the garage? I have no idea.)
As I walked back to the car, I checked my invoice. They had my name, address, and phone number on it, so I guess they really did know who I was after all.
When I finally returned home, I didn't feel like sewing any more. My blouse can wait another day. Getting the tires replaced was relatively painless. The man I talked with was friendly, as were the two ladies in the waiting area. But I just felt tired. I had been out of my element in a place I wasn't comfortable in. I had been gone two hours, when I'd only expected to be gone for half an hour. The whole situation had been kind of stressful and I just wanted to curl up and take a nap, or read a book, or write about it and get it all out of my system.
On the one hand, it snowed yesterday, and the roads were slushy with snow and ice. It was less than 20 degrees outside. I hate driving in the snow. I could find something else to do today.
On the other hand, it wasn't currently snowing, but it might snow later on today, and there is a chance of snow every day for the next week. There might not be a better time to go. And I couldn't finish my blouse until I got buttons.
In the end, I decided to go. I gathered some leftover scraps of cloth that I wanted the buttons to match, scrounged up a coupon, recorded some information from a skirt pattern, just in case I came across some fabric for a skirt to match, and headed out into the snow.
The fabric store is maybe 2 miles from home. I was almost there when I noticed the light staring at me from the dashboard of the van. It looked like a little tire, but with an exclamation mark inside it. Low tire pressure. The vehicle was still driving fine, but I started to wonder if the left side seemed a little lower than the right, or if it was just my imagination. Could cold weather cause low tire pressure? It seemed like I'd heard something like that. Maybe it wasn't anything serious. Maybe it would go away if I ignored it. A girl can dream, can't she?
Carefully, I pulled into the first parking space I came to in front of the fabric store. Climbing out of the van, I looked at the front driver side tire. It did look low. I looked at the back tire. There was definitely more air in it than in the front tire. I looked back at the front tire. It was maybe half the height that it should have been. Good news - it wasn't totally flat, down to the rims. But I'd still have to do something about it. Eventually. I looked at the tires on the other side of the car, and thankfully, they seemed to be okay.
I collected my purse and went into the fabric store. I found some buttons, then browsed the other fabrics for a little while, but didn't end up seeing anything I wanted to get, especially when I knew in the back of my head that I was probably going to have to buy a new tire for the car today. I paid for my purchase - it's always good when I can get out of the fabric store without paying more than $5, and headed back out to the van.
The front tire was still low. We have scouts tonight, and we'll need the van. I needed to get it fixed now. Just a block or two from the fabric store, I knew there were some car... tire... service... places. I couldn't remember which we'd used in the past. I tried calling Steven to tell him what was going on and to ask him which place I should go to (and for moral support... I don't like dealing with car maintenance issues), but his phone went straight to voice mail. No help there. I wondered briefly if I should try to put on the spare tire before I drove any more, but decided not to bother. There was still some air in the tire, and I was only driving a couple blocks. It would be fine. Wouldn't it? I really didn't want to try to change a tire in the slushy, flooding parking lot. I started the engine and set off, pulling into the parking lot of the first car place I came to.
I walked into the foyer area and the first thing I noticed was the smell. I don't know what it was, kind of an oily, rubbery, grungy kind of smell that I've come to associate with places that work with cars, not that I've been in places like that very often. I try to avoid them if at all possible.
A friendly man at the desk greeted me and asked, "What can we do for you today?"
I responded vaguely, "One of my tires is low. I don't know if it's flat or if it just needs air..."
Thankfully, the man didn't laugh at my ignorance. "We'll take a look at it and see." he told me. "Can I get your last name?"
I told him the last name, he typed it into his computer, and the next thing he said was, "Is it the Sienna?"
A little bit shocked, I nodded and told him, "Yeah." Meanwhile my mind was buzzing. Not only had I been here before (I must have blocked out all memory of it for some reason), but apparently I was the only person with our last name in their records, and they already knew the model of my car! Or did someone else with my same last name also have a Toyota Sienna? Was it a case of mistaken identity? What were the chances of that happening?
Hoping for the best, I handed over my keys, then went to wait in the waiting area - a small section with sofas, magazines, a popcorn cart, and a large TV. There were a couple other women there waiting for some brake work on their car. From the collection of drink and food containers around them, I'd guess they'd been there for a few hours. I sent Steven a text, to let him know where I was. I wasn't really excited to be spending hundreds of dollars on tires without letting him know what was going on first.
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, the man from the counter rolled out a tire and called me over to have a look at it. Poking out from the side wall of the tire was a screw. It wasn't a little screw, either. It was a big screw, the kind you'd use to connect two by fours if you were building a house. Just the rounded head was protruding, surrounded by little bubbles of escaping air. He told me a patch wouldn't keep air from escaping, and we would need to replace it. The other front tire was also showing signs of wear and would need to be replaced soon. They could get me two new tires, they'd match the back tires, and I'd be good to go for just $275.55. I had no idea if that was a good price for tires or not. I believed him that the tire in front of me couldn't be patched. I could very easily believe that the other front tire was in need of replacing too. Trusting to his expertise, I told him to go ahead. He rolled the tire away, and I returned to my spot on the sofa to update Steven as to what was going on, and to continue my perusal of a Family Circle magazine.
About 45 minutes and two magazines later, they were done. I paid for the tires, retrieved my keys, and was advised to bring the van back in for an alignment check someday when the weather was better. (Because that isn't something they can check in the garage? I have no idea.)
As I walked back to the car, I checked my invoice. They had my name, address, and phone number on it, so I guess they really did know who I was after all.
When I finally returned home, I didn't feel like sewing any more. My blouse can wait another day. Getting the tires replaced was relatively painless. The man I talked with was friendly, as were the two ladies in the waiting area. But I just felt tired. I had been out of my element in a place I wasn't comfortable in. I had been gone two hours, when I'd only expected to be gone for half an hour. The whole situation had been kind of stressful and I just wanted to curl up and take a nap, or read a book, or write about it and get it all out of my system.
Sorry you had a rough day! I hate having to take care of that sort of thing, I'm always leaving car issues up to Tejay, so I can imagine your discomfort having to take care of that without any input from Steven.
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