When the mechanic said to me, “Yeah… They don’t care about you.”
and ruin everything.
Twice. And counting.
For the record.
And that’s saying something, because my downstairs neighbors are basically Hitler. #thanksformakingmyapartmentsmelllikeafishmarketeverynight #couldyoupleasecookablandvegetableeveryonceinawhile
Apparently my life motto is, “Alex Eason: taking on all of the world’s car problems so you don’t have to.” As a newly anointed expert on the subject of flat tires, here’s my how-to guide for dealing with them.
You learned how to change a tire once in high school, but oh are those glory days long gone, so you’re SOL up the creek on this one, sans paddle if you know what I mean. Call your dad, obviously. Then lament your misfortune while you cry, of course. Be heavily disappointed in yourself for reinforcing sexist stereotypes, but then remember that every guy you’ve ever dated/every guy you’ve ever worked for/every guy you’ve ever met can’t change his own tire either and feel smugly vindicated that their bitch asses are just as useless as yours.
2. Lie on the ground and give up, because there is clearly no point to living anymore.
3. Call roadside assistance
Because you’re a pathetic excuse for an adult. This is why you get AAA. Or, you could rely on the roadside assistance that came with your car, and 5 hours + 2 cancelled tows later, you’ll be on your way to the mechanic in a tow truck that feels like an earthquake simulator and a driver that’s high, but don’t worry, because he can show you where the only Fatburger in/around LA County that didn’t sell out and still serves wings in a sweet and tangy orange sauce is.
4. Ask if it can be patched
Usually, if the flat is caused by something like a nail in the tread, it can be patched, as opposed to damage to the side wall. Patching is way less expensive than replacing a tire and is totally sufficient. #webroke
5. If you find out it was not an accident, but that somebody slashed it…
Find out who that person is, and then exact revenge in ways they’ve never even heard of (their credit score? Decimated. Their name? On the No Fly List. Herpes? Contracted for the sole purpose of spreading; successfully spread). What they didn’t consider when they slashed your tire is that you’d be able to find out it was them, by means beyond their wildest dreams, and now you get to haunt their every waking moment, which will be plagued by the relentlessly terrorizing knowledge that you know, and you know they know you know, and any instant, a metaphorical bomb could drop (or a real one—just make sure you do it with the stealth of Obama in the drone wars), and BAM—poof goes their illusion that they could get away with fucking with you. Silly rabbit, we don’t get fucked—we fuck. #wedothefucking
6. Leave the shitty tow company that cancels on you a bad Yelp review
Finally make good on your threat to leave a Yelp review.
7. Become friends with the mechanic
He’ll laugh at the “I ❤ MY PENIS” air freshener hanging from your rear view mirror, and you’ll tell him that it’s supposed to be a joke but also kind of a feminist statement, and he’ll respond with, “it’s cute,” and then he’ll tell you he’s impressed that you drive a stick because not many girls do, and you’ll be so tempted to point out all of the patriarchal things wrong with alll of that, but you bite your tongue because anything in the name of getting things for free, right? #it’shardoutthereforafeminist
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So you get onto a residential street and it’s all permit parking, so you pull over and put your hazard lights on and then call roadside assistance and it’s going to take them an hour to get there, so you call your mom and she expresses concern for your safety so you say, “I’m in fucking Beverly Hills, Mom. My life is not in danger,” just as a slightly scary looking man walks by, and then the cops show up a few yards behind you and apprehend the slightly scary looking man, and you really have to pee, so as the police are about to leave you run towards them waving your arms yelling, “Excuse me! Officer! Excuse me!” [fully aware that the only reason you can do this without getting shot is that you’re a white female] until they finally notice you and you say, “I have a flat tire and I’m illegally parked over there, but I really have to pee, so could you help me please?” as you gesture to your car, so one of the officers points you in the direction of the nearest business and tells you he’ll give you an exemption so you won’t get a parking ticket while you find a bathroom, and you think the LEAST they could do is give you a ride to the nearest bathroom I mean so much for public SERVANT, and also you’re a little worried because you have an air freshener hanging from your rear view mirror that says “I ❤ MY PENIS,” but you decide he’ll just have to deal with it as you scurry off to find the nearest business, which it turns out isn’t near at all, but the merciful cashier lets you use the bathroom, so you pee really quickly and then run back to your car in your cowboy boots and you haven’t run that much in ever so by the time you get back to your car you’re really winded and you def pulled your hip flexor, and then you wait another 45 minutes for the guy to come and you feel really ashamed that you don’t remember how to change your own tire, and then the next morning you take the tire to get fixed and the guy tells you it isn’t under warranty, despite the car being brand new, and it takes them three and a half hours to patch it, and it turns out it was the tiniest nail known to mankind that caused the flat because of course it fucking would be, and the guy ends up not charging you for it, probably because at this point you’re looking like a pretty pitiful rabid raccoon.