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The not particularly good day
Dec. 14th, 2010 01:29 amMy cell phone display stopped working today, which means it didn't tell me I had a voicemail from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adfamiliares, who'd called from a hotel lobby (she'd forgotten her phone) to tell me one of her tires had blown out on the highway:
She's fine, the car is fine, everything is fine. But she drove on that to get to a place where she could call AAA. The AAA guy put on the spare (she tells me), and she made it to Scottish class an hour late.
Unfortunately, the AAA guy did not check the pressure in the tire. When we left Springstep at 10PM, the spare was completely flat. We called AAA again, using my phone without the functioning display, and waited in the cold (I in my kilt and K in her skirt) for them to send a tow truck. When the (different) guy arrived, he didn't have an air compressor, so he had to drive back and get one. Once he had the compressor hooked up, he couldn't get the tire seated on the rims. We watched him whale upon it with a hammer, kick it, push it, whale upon it additionally, remove it so he could whale upon it on the ground, squeeze it, swear at it, stand upon it, rest it against the curb so he could whale upon it diagonally, whale upon it while standing on it, jump on it, and finally break the valve of his compressor.
He asked if the old tire was really all that bad. We showed him.
Eventually, he took the spare with him back to the shop, where he could use "the big compressor." We were at his mercy at that point: he'd left the car up on the jack, but said we could wait inside with the heat on, if we didn't bounce around too much. We did not bounce. He returned half an hour later, explaining that the spare tire valve had broken (the tire was quite old) — but, hallelujah, that he'd managed to inflate the spare anyway. Suddenly, he was an angel of mercy, sent by God to ease our suffering. We drove home slowly, via back roads, and arrived ninety minutes late.
Tomorrow, K will take the car to her shop, and I will bid on an eBay replacement for my phone, to last me until the T-Mobile iPhones come out. At the moment, I cannot send or receive texts, tell what time it is, use the internet, see the battery level, see if I have reception, determine whether the ringer is on, or see voicemail notifications. FAIR WARNING! I can receive calls (provided the ringer is on, which is not a sure thing, since the phone changes that setting randomly as it bounces around in my pocket), and dial with the keypad, like a caveman, although I do not know anybody's number.
Dear tomorrow: please be better.
adfamiliares, who'd called from a hotel lobby (she'd forgotten her phone) to tell me one of her tires had blown out on the highway:She's fine, the car is fine, everything is fine. But she drove on that to get to a place where she could call AAA. The AAA guy put on the spare (she tells me), and she made it to Scottish class an hour late.
Unfortunately, the AAA guy did not check the pressure in the tire. When we left Springstep at 10PM, the spare was completely flat. We called AAA again, using my phone without the functioning display, and waited in the cold (I in my kilt and K in her skirt) for them to send a tow truck. When the (different) guy arrived, he didn't have an air compressor, so he had to drive back and get one. Once he had the compressor hooked up, he couldn't get the tire seated on the rims. We watched him whale upon it with a hammer, kick it, push it, whale upon it additionally, remove it so he could whale upon it on the ground, squeeze it, swear at it, stand upon it, rest it against the curb so he could whale upon it diagonally, whale upon it while standing on it, jump on it, and finally break the valve of his compressor.
He asked if the old tire was really all that bad. We showed him.
Eventually, he took the spare with him back to the shop, where he could use "the big compressor." We were at his mercy at that point: he'd left the car up on the jack, but said we could wait inside with the heat on, if we didn't bounce around too much. We did not bounce. He returned half an hour later, explaining that the spare tire valve had broken (the tire was quite old) — but, hallelujah, that he'd managed to inflate the spare anyway. Suddenly, he was an angel of mercy, sent by God to ease our suffering. We drove home slowly, via back roads, and arrived ninety minutes late.
Tomorrow, K will take the car to her shop, and I will bid on an eBay replacement for my phone, to last me until the T-Mobile iPhones come out. At the moment, I cannot send or receive texts, tell what time it is, use the internet, see the battery level, see if I have reception, determine whether the ringer is on, or see voicemail notifications. FAIR WARNING! I can receive calls (provided the ringer is on, which is not a sure thing, since the phone changes that setting randomly as it bounces around in my pocket), and dial with the keypad, like a caveman, although I do not know anybody's number.
Dear tomorrow: please be better.
