Spare Me

I used to have a brand new, never used, pristine spare tyre. Alas, that time has come to an end, as it is currently sitting in wait on the rear passenger side of my car. Lainie needs the car tomorrow, so it is being called in off the bench.

 

Now, this is not much of a problem, after all, thats what it was designed for. It poses as aesthetic problem on two counts, firslty its not the same brand as the other three tyres, and secondly, it will no longer be pristine, but these are minor concerns (especially as its not me who will have the embarassment of driving the car around with mis-matched tyres for very long).

 

No, the problem comes from the tyre that is currently sitting inside the boot, waiting to go to the tyre shop on Saturday. You see, its the 3rd time this tyre will have gone to the tyre shop, including the original purchase, and not including a trip to Dad's for a home repair job. Now, its not that I dont trust the tyre shop, indeed the last time I got it fixed, they didn't charge me for it. Its just that, the only time I could see the cause of the flat, was when Dad repaired it - there was a dirty great big screw stuck in there. The other times, its been a tiny little hole caused by god-knows-what, or a reopening of a previous repair job. This time again, there is no visible evidence.

 

Now, maybe they sold me a dud tyre. Maybe they do dud repair jobs. Maybe they put on a dud valve. Hell, maybe i'm just really unlucky in the places that I drive, though considering the only places I drive are Ians house, Chadstone, Coles, and Mum and Dads, I find that surprising. And always the exact same wheel? The upper-middle-class snoot in me would blame my recent trip to Frankston, but in reality, I took the freeway, and Frankston is actually a perfectly normal place.

 

Maybe I'll just give up driving, and get a motorbike instead. Though I don't know where I'd carry the spare...