This is for all you ladies out there who think that changing flat tires is a job for solely the menfolk. I just did it.1 All by myself.2 In my house slippers.3
It’s important to know how to change a tire. And I’ll tell you why. With a hypothetical example: You’re driving along on the freeway. You feel a strange change of weight in the back passenger side area of your car, and look out your passenger side window just in time to see your hub cap spinning off into Never Never Land. (Never to be recaptured.) You slow down, pull over to the right shoulder of the freeway, get out of the passenger side (to avoid getting killed by the fast moving traffic in the left lane next to you) and examine the flat tire before you. Bummer. Crawl back in, and drive slowly to the next exit, which you take and then make a series of right turns looking for somewhere quiet to park and call for help. You park. Look around. And realize you’ve landed at a fire station. Where a hot, young, tall, dark fireman comes out to change your tire for you.4
No, wait. Crap. It would seem I’ve dug out an argument for NOT knowing how to change a tire. Hang on. Allow me to start over.
Ok. So you’re on the side of the freeway, alone, with a flat tire. No exit for miles. No cell phone reception. And some creepy guy with a wife beater on and a tattoo that says “Money over Bitches” across his right arm pulls over and offers to help you. Having no idea how to change your tire and with few other options for help, you accept his offer. After which, he pummels you on the side of the head, knocks you out, does a number of other unsavory things to you before he kills you, thus making you the next tragic headline on the evening news. See how this can unfurl into disaster so quickly? All because you didn’t know how to change a tire??5
So here’s my advice to you ladies. Read your car’s instruction manual. Know where your jack and spare tire are. And when you think you don’t have the upper body strength to loosen or tighten your lugnuts? Use your lower body strength. That’s what I did; I literally put the Thingy To Unscrew The Lugnuts onto the lugnut (I love saying that word) and stood on the handle to unscrew it with the weight of my body. And I did the same to screw them back on. Voila!
And, now you can beat those creepies, the ones that prey on women who don’t know shit about cars, about the head with your jack! Turns out it has many purposes!
I am woman! Hear me roar!6
1. Under the supervision of my trusty, and very manly, roommate, Mr. Wonderful. (Who gets his name because he was a living donor for his father when he needed a liver transplant. It doesn’t get more wonderful than that.) I had Mr. Wonderful around just to make sure I didn’t kill myself with an ill-positioned jack.
2. Only because I had to. The Brit is still out of town on business.
3. Seriously. I was in my house slippers.
4.This actually happened to me about 8 years ago. Sadly, he did not take off his shirt while he performed this manly duty. Despite the fact that I suggested he do so. You know, it was hot outside.
5. Thankfully, this is not what happened to me. (Though I have encountered a man with a wife beater and a similar tattoo. At work, in the ER.) I simply came out one morning to go to work and found a flat tire.
6. Though, let’s be clear here. Next time this happens to me, if The Brit is in town, he’ll change the tire. :)