I am not mechanically inclined. But I think that is sort of like people who say that they're not good at math - I think that if I actually put a little work into it I could do a thing or two. If a car breaks down, I can take a look to see if the battery cables are connected or if there is smoke pouring out from under the hood, but that's about it. Well no, I can ably check fluid levels and I can change a tire.
The ability to change a tire comes in handy when you discover your car has a flat, say at 5 minutes to six am when you're heading to work, say like this morning.
What's better than changing a tire at 6am? Oh, I don't know, a rectal exam? Being beaten unconscious by a psycho with a Zima bottle? Being forced to watch a Hilary Duff film festival?
It actually made me happy about my misspent youth though. When I started driving a car, I was either never taught or never bothered to learn how to do things to a car that it might be helpful to know; things like changing your oil, changing a tire. One fine, sunny, Saturday afternoon, Damon and I were doing donuts (or as Dougie Wagner calls them, Brodies. He in turn calls our cat Brody, Donuts. He's funny that way) in the school parking lot. I guess the heat generated by doing roughly 812 circles at speed finally made the front passenger tire blow like a... tire.
Make up your own fellatio joke, I'm tired.
But see, Damon had been taught to change a tire, he knew how to work a friggin' jack, and he taught me. If I had never learned how to do this, via dangerous and juvenile behavior, I probably would have stared at that flat tire and wanted to cry in defeat.
But no, I changed it and I feel like a man, like a real man! I want to go kill something and then cook it over a fire and eat it. I want to watch some sort of sporting event and get drunk on overpriced beer. I want to step up and help rule the world by treating women and minorities like second class citizens.
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3 comments:
...like a euro-hispanic-asian-african-creole crack whore hopped up on poppers, crank and the beating you gave her last night cause that mongrel bitch deserved it.....
i used to love zima
One time my car's tire blew out--a gun-shot pop , instant flat--while cheauferring my wife and mother-in-law somewhere. And in one of my most manly tire-changing escapades, I calmly guided the car through 5 lanes of California traffic at faster-then-freeway speeds, to the side of the road where I then proceeded to quickly change the tire while the ladies looked on from a safe distance.
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