Tires

“Lady, don’t drive anywhere without a mechanic in the trunk.”

This advice from Click and Clack to a caller on their Car Talk program now applies to me. I can no longer  drive my husband’s car if he or the mechanic in the trunk aren’t present.

We both love our 1990 blue Miata convertible: it is still shiny, rust free and undinged. But the other day I was rushing to the Post Office and took off in the Miata, the last car in the driveway. I panicked on the freeway when I realized I hadn’t checked the tires. A prerequisite to driving the car is to check the tires and inflate them when necessary with a can of tire-be-fixed with glue additives.

Trips to the car wash are also problematic. On the last visit, my husband handed me a stack of bath towels as he drove into the bay and said, “You will need these”. Water was soon spurting into the car from multiple leaks in the convertible top. On the bright side, we had bought the exterior wash and were getting the interior done as well.

The noises are another problem. This geriatric vehicle can make some scary sounds. I cannot discriminate between an “your entire engine is falling out” sound and a “that’s nothing to worry about’ sound”. Guys have an advantage in this department.

The lack of shock absorbers doesn’t bother me, you can’t have everything, right? The frequent lack of a side mount mirror is another matter. When your car is the size of a pea, it is beneficial to know what’s in your immediate territory.

My husband recently told me he’s decided to buy his 23 year old car a new set of tires. I’m O.K.with this purchase.  I just think of Cuba. The guys down there keep cars going for 50 or 60 years.

Wish us luck.

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1 thought on “Tires”

  1. Mary, you are too, too funny! And I have been rescued this very week by two Michaels–my guy & my landlord–both who know how to be plumbers when they’re not otherwise occupied . . .
    I am a lucky woman. And I admire you derring-do. Sounds so much like me.

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