Although generally pretty amazing, I am still human.... and as a human, I find myself lacking certain skill sets at times. My husband was quick to tell me this yesterday when I faced one the undesirable tasks of auto maintenance.... putting air in the tires. (I know this task is undesirable due to the fact that my "better half" refused to do it the first 5 times I asked him.) Now, it's not that I don't know HOW to put air in my tires (afterall, they don't hand out Masters degrees to COMPLETE idiots- although I wonder if they can take them back after, I don't know, reading a blog portraying oneself in a slightly less than flattering light....), but the very thought of pumping up my tires causes me to break out in a cold sweat.
First, there's the matter of being timed. As if it's not bad enough that the condition of my tires rests heavily on my ability to scrounge up 4 quarters from the depths of my purse and under the seat of my car, but then they add the pressure of a 3-MINUTE time slot to get the entire job done (which would be great.... if I drove a tricycle). Is AIR really THAT difficult to come by that they have to limit us to 3 lousy minutes?? That's not even a minute per tire, let alone the sprinting that takes place running from one tire to the next (passersby must wonder if I'm practicing to be part of the Nascar pit crew). So, in order to make the best use of my time, I unscrew all of the little tire plugs (I do believe that's the technical name for them) and I put together a plan of attack.... quarters ready.... hose untangled.... and GO!
This is when the REAL stress begins! I quickly kneel down by the first tire, press the hose into the plug thingy (there goes my Masters....), then squeeze the handle until the little gauge pops out, showing me how many pounds of air (per...square....inch??) are in my tire. I let go of the handle and I wait for the reading as the seconds tick away.... TEN POUNDS? Holy crap! How in the world was my car even off the ground with ten pounds? No time to think about it.... pump, you crazy machine, PUMP!!! I quickly run to the next tire and repeat this process (HURRY!!!!). Due to the Kwik Fill's old-as-dirt machine, it's hard to say how much air I'm actually putting into my tires, in the first place....there's no super-fun poundage that I can pre-set into the pump, there's no electronic reading, there's not even directions anywhere on or near the pump (this is useful in my defense to my husband).
After what seems like an appropriate amount of time (well, what IS an appropriate amount of time when your tires have 10 pounds of air in them and you only have 3 minutes to get them all up to 35 pounds?) I speed race around the car to get to the third wheel. But wait! The hose doesn't reach! This is precious time being wasted as I run around the car and try to get at the wheel from the other direction. CRAP! It still doesn't reach!! My car is practically sitting ON TOP of the pump machine and the hose doesn't reach??? Thinking quickly (and impulsively), I toss the hose over the top of my car (praying it doesn't bust out my window as the metal nozzle lands with a clank) and sprint back to the third tire-- it just barely reaches! But now that I've lost at least 20 seconds (which I'm totally guessing at, since there is no timer display on the machine to check in with- and who can think anyways with that hunk of junk sounding like a freaking rocket launcher)- and it is then that I notice that all of the customers pumping their gas are staring at me, mouths slightly agape... I don't even have time to check pounds. So I push in the hose and wait till the hissing stops (this means air is going in, instead of out, correct?). I'm about 10 seconds into the 4th tire when the machine stops abruptly.
It takes me a full minute to catch my breath and retrieve my heart's rhythm back from hummingbird mode. Now that the pressure is off, I decided to take a moment to check the new pressure in my tires. I plug in the hose, squeeze the handle, and out pops the gauge. Ten pounds. As I took the name of Kwik Fill in vain, I tested the other three tires. Ten pounds. Oh, isn't that just GRAND! I put my plug thingys back on, slam my car door, and speed home, covered in tire grease. I'm in the process of explaining the event to my husband, sure that he will march down to Kwik Fill and demand my 4 quarters back (hey, things are tight) since their machine is OBVIOUSLY faulty. But instead of sympathy, my husband calmly says, "Honey, were you holding the handle down to just check the air pressure, or did you know that you need to hold it down the entire time....in order for the air to come out?"
Silence. "Crap." It's all I could say, really.... especially when I remembered the other two times I "put air in my tires" AKA paid 4 quarters to do a 3-minute aerobic panic attack while creating a scene....
First, there's the matter of being timed. As if it's not bad enough that the condition of my tires rests heavily on my ability to scrounge up 4 quarters from the depths of my purse and under the seat of my car, but then they add the pressure of a 3-MINUTE time slot to get the entire job done (which would be great.... if I drove a tricycle). Is AIR really THAT difficult to come by that they have to limit us to 3 lousy minutes?? That's not even a minute per tire, let alone the sprinting that takes place running from one tire to the next (passersby must wonder if I'm practicing to be part of the Nascar pit crew). So, in order to make the best use of my time, I unscrew all of the little tire plugs (I do believe that's the technical name for them) and I put together a plan of attack.... quarters ready.... hose untangled.... and GO!
This is when the REAL stress begins! I quickly kneel down by the first tire, press the hose into the plug thingy (there goes my Masters....), then squeeze the handle until the little gauge pops out, showing me how many pounds of air (per...square....inch??) are in my tire. I let go of the handle and I wait for the reading as the seconds tick away.... TEN POUNDS? Holy crap! How in the world was my car even off the ground with ten pounds? No time to think about it.... pump, you crazy machine, PUMP!!! I quickly run to the next tire and repeat this process (HURRY!!!!). Due to the Kwik Fill's old-as-dirt machine, it's hard to say how much air I'm actually putting into my tires, in the first place....there's no super-fun poundage that I can pre-set into the pump, there's no electronic reading, there's not even directions anywhere on or near the pump (this is useful in my defense to my husband).
After what seems like an appropriate amount of time (well, what IS an appropriate amount of time when your tires have 10 pounds of air in them and you only have 3 minutes to get them all up to 35 pounds?) I speed race around the car to get to the third wheel. But wait! The hose doesn't reach! This is precious time being wasted as I run around the car and try to get at the wheel from the other direction. CRAP! It still doesn't reach!! My car is practically sitting ON TOP of the pump machine and the hose doesn't reach??? Thinking quickly (and impulsively), I toss the hose over the top of my car (praying it doesn't bust out my window as the metal nozzle lands with a clank) and sprint back to the third tire-- it just barely reaches! But now that I've lost at least 20 seconds (which I'm totally guessing at, since there is no timer display on the machine to check in with- and who can think anyways with that hunk of junk sounding like a freaking rocket launcher)- and it is then that I notice that all of the customers pumping their gas are staring at me, mouths slightly agape... I don't even have time to check pounds. So I push in the hose and wait till the hissing stops (this means air is going in, instead of out, correct?). I'm about 10 seconds into the 4th tire when the machine stops abruptly.
It takes me a full minute to catch my breath and retrieve my heart's rhythm back from hummingbird mode. Now that the pressure is off, I decided to take a moment to check the new pressure in my tires. I plug in the hose, squeeze the handle, and out pops the gauge. Ten pounds. As I took the name of Kwik Fill in vain, I tested the other three tires. Ten pounds. Oh, isn't that just GRAND! I put my plug thingys back on, slam my car door, and speed home, covered in tire grease. I'm in the process of explaining the event to my husband, sure that he will march down to Kwik Fill and demand my 4 quarters back (hey, things are tight) since their machine is OBVIOUSLY faulty. But instead of sympathy, my husband calmly says, "Honey, were you holding the handle down to just check the air pressure, or did you know that you need to hold it down the entire time....in order for the air to come out?"
Silence. "Crap." It's all I could say, really.... especially when I remembered the other two times I "put air in my tires" AKA paid 4 quarters to do a 3-minute aerobic panic attack while creating a scene....
I'm exhausted; I need to go to bed. Let me know that the tires are ok and we'll be good.
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