Rollin' down the road; this wheel shall explode

So my father has worked for a tire company since before I was born. I have been around tires my entire (hehe, that word has the word "tire" inside it) life. Today was the first day I had to deal with a tire on my own.

I was driving to Cleveland on an errand for work. As I was nearing the city, all these cars started honking and waving at me. (Well, the cars didn't wave--the people inside did). Now, I know the city of Cleveland is not that friendly, so I figured something was up. Finally a truck pulled up beside me and mouthed "Your back tire is flat". Shit, shit, shit. I had no idea where I was, I had never put a spare on the new car, and my cell phone was back in the apartment. I got off the highway and started looking for a gas station, thinking maybe I could just re-inflate the tire. I pulled into a darling little Citgo in quite possibly the most shadiest part of Cleveland. I found the air dispenser, but it had half a sign that said "Ou O Ord" which I assume meant that the gadget was broken. It didn't really matter, because when I looked at the driver side rear it had a big ol' nail stuck right through the tread. I panicked slightly and went inside.

The inside of the Citgo store was actually dirtier than the outside. There was old newspapers all the floor, odd bits of packaging and boxes, and four or five truckers in those baseball caps that don't quite fit right. Before I could despair, however, I looked behind the counter into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I almost floated towards them until I realized I would be cutting in front of someone with a tattoo of the Tasmanian Devil on his neck. So I walked around the maze of aisles to the back of the line. But ol' blue eyes laughed and motioned for me to come to his window. The group of rednecks parted like the Red Sea and I went to the counter. I explained to him the situation in one long breath with lots of unnecessary details. He considered me for awhile and then said "Icannaeelpwitatire. Iweelfnd someoneaelp yooo." Then he disappeared. Before I could puzzle through what exactly he had said, I saw him waving from outside. I joined him and pointed at the flat tire. He shook his head and took a bite of the piece of pizza he had brought outside with him. "Imungry" he said in explanation. Then he disappeared back in the store. He came back with two ruggedly unattractive convoy participants. He put his arm around me and said "Now, yooootooo, benicetothisgurl. She es mycohsin. Ehf Iear yooo treeter wrong, Iwihl be vehry angry." He winked at me and went back inside. The two older men looked at the tire and said "You got a donut?" I understood this less than I did the handsome guy from whatever country Latka and Balki were from. Trucker two chimed in "Donut or Full-size?" AH, they meant the spare. "Donut" I said.

Suddenly I felt like a regular grease monkey, chatting about tire sizes and lug nuts. I was about to get down and dirty when Trucker two says "You should just use a sealant." Now, as tire litigator-in-training, this was not a good idea. Always repair or replace a puncture, I knew this. But these guys were truckers, they do this for a living. They explained how it worked, what it would do, how long it would last. So I went back into Citgo and bought a bottle of Leak-B-Gon or whatever it was called. Ol' blue eyes behind the counter was not happy. He followed me out of the store and said "Rryooshore abouthis? Idonnaewahnt yooo to gethurt. Weeneed yooo." Blushing, I said "Who?" He pointed around and said "Me, them, everyone." I looked down at the tire which was now miraculously inflated and promised him I would be alright, and thanked him for his help. He turned around and walked into the store and out of my life forever. (Everyone can heave a heavy sigh now). I thanked Trucker one and Trucker two and finished my journey to Cleveland.

I learned one thing today: the damsel in distress routine does not discriminate. It works on locals, foreigners, white collared, blue collared, and no collared alike. However, I really do wish I had actually learned to change a tire today. Or at least what ol' blue eyes' name was.

(Note: if you know what television show the title of the post comes from, give yourself a pat on the back for being uber cool.)