I got a flat tire yesterday. I was driving my little carpool home from school, and suddenly we all heard it: thumpa-thumpa-thumpa. "You've got a flat, Mom," J announced. I did indeed.
After consultation with my husband, I called AAA, and two guys (one friendly, one not) came to fix my flat. They jacked up my car, took off the flat, took the spare out of the trunk, and then.... the spare didn't fit. The holes didn't line up...you know, the ones that are supposed to fit the bolts? They were puzzled. I was puzzled. They put the flat back on the car, and left.
Further calls to my husband. Consternation. Turns out that I'd needed a new rim a while back, and the car guy must have inadvertently put the wrong rim on the tire. Turns out that they changed the model in the middle of the year, and he must have put the old model's rim on the tire. Turns out I'd need a new rim.
And this takes us to the car guy. My husband's car guy.
There are plenty of car guys in our little town, but my husband chooses to use a car guy that is located far away, in the city. When he needs to see the car guy, he has to drive about 10 miles in the wrong direction of everything to get to him. But, you see, my husband LIKES this car guy. He has a RELATIONSHIP with him. Actually, they have become friends: real friends. So my husband doesn't mind driving 10 miles in the opposite direction in order to see his friend the car guy.
So that's what he did this morning. He drove to the car guy's shop. Got my tire repaired. Ordered the right rim. Yes, now he is 2 hours late to work. But: he loves his car guy. And all is right with the world.