Shade's Duhs NEVER Get Old

For whatever reason the universe has designated me as the mistress of flat tires. I've had seven in my driving life despite the fact that I'm always riding around on really good tires, I have a gift for flattening them. If I pass by your vehicle, expect a flat tire. I've got some funky flat tire mojo going on is my point.

I also never have to change them. One time my tire went flat in front of a construction crew and the entire crew came trooping over to change my tire. Another time I was on a turnpike, blew a tire and literally didn't have time to pull off of the road before another driver was stopping to help me. Out gets this massive man and I think I'm about to become a murder statistic but he'd seen my tire blow and wsa just trying to be helpful.

So one night as I was leaving a class I walked up to my car and realized that I had a flat. Determined to finally prove my Girl Power I swung into action. I mean, theorectically I know how to change a tire and god knows I've watched enough guys changing mine.

I whip out the tire iron and jack. Jack up the car. Realize I need to loosen bolts first. Unjack car. Realize I can't get the cover off. Struggle madly, whacking hubcap with tire iron in an entirely deranged manner.

This is where my funky tire mojo kicks in. The state where I live is a drought state and out of freaking nowhere it begins to rain, rain, rain build the ark NOW don't delay kind of rain. But I'm determined, I want to change this darned tire.

I'm drenched to the bone when I finally realize that hubcap is never coming off but I don't want to be a total girl and call my boyfriend. So I splash my way back into the lecture hall and started looking for a class in session.

I finally find one, stick my head in the door and ask "Excuse me but does anyone have a screwdriver? I can't pry my hubcap off."

Literally something like five guys are on their feet ready to help. The prof. lets one of these guys go with me to the parking lot...he goes to his truck gets the longest screwdriver known to god or man and promptly pops the hubcap off.

"Thanks! I'll take it from here! Get back inside before you drown." But the guy isn't budging. So I argue my case, bringing up my many flat tires and the fact that - darn it - I want to break the flat tire rescuing trend. So the big guy stands back and watches me struggle with the tire iron and the bolts.

Problem! I'd had my tires rotated the week before and the bloody bolts have been mechanically drilled on recently. At this point I'm more or less hopping up and down on the tire iron and hissing like a lunatic.

Large guy stands behind me. I'm now getting a total "STALKER!" vibe off of him which is ironic because he would have been inside and DRY had it not been for me. Finally I give up and give in. In what seems like 3.2 seconds flat he's gone to his truck, gotten one of those X shaped tire irons and has the bolts off.

I open my mouth to argue that "Great, thanks I'll take it from..."

He gives me a look and I meekily stand behind him admiring how quickly he changes the tire. He stands up, hands me the big old screwdriver and says: "You'd better keep this and think about carrrying a cell phone."

I make a lame joke about how accepting a screwdriver probably means we're engaged in some third world country.

WRONG THING TO SAY. He now completely thinks I'm hitting on him. Four minutes in pouring rain trying to backtrack out of that gracefully.

So it's time for us to part ways and this is when I finally notice that he's about ten years older than I am and I realize he's in nightschool. I start praising the fact that he is pursuing his degree and it must be hard work.

Chat chat chat. Rain rain rain. My brain is sending me text messages that read "Stop.Being.Stupid" I have no idea why my brain is malfunctioning like this but I can't seem to just leap into the car and drive the heck away. I try to pay him. STUPID CHOICE.

He'll take my phone number instead, that's his offer. More backtracking out of stupidity follows. Briefly consider claiming to be gay to get the heck out of that rain.

Finally as we part ways, me with this incredibly long screwdriver (he wouldn't take it back) me wishing him luck with his degree...and my finally asking:

"So, what do you do for a living now?"

Now there's a reason I found this guy sort of creepy...he was not big with smiling and he's larger than heck but he cracks up at this.

"I'm a mechanic." Well how was I supposed to know? As he heads back into the building he stops by his truck ...you know the one he's been running off to every few minutes but I never bothered to look at?

Elite Auto is written in blood red letters the size of my entire arm on the side of the truck.

Oh...GOD....DUH!