Burning Rubber...Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Change My Tire

Many people name their vehicles. Why? I don't know. Usually, these names are of the female persuasion. In April of last year, I bought a car. The burning question now of course is, "What did you name it?" I named her Chastity.
I named my ride Chastity because of it's irony. An irony shared with so many women across this fine nation who earn their living one dollar at a time (if you catch my meaning). I named my car Chastity because when I look at her, I see an ironic stripper.
Now, to let you in on my weekend, I did a little rearranging. This meant buying some new furniture and since I can never find anything I really like, I purchased some "it'll do for now because it's amazingly cheap" furniture from Ikea. On my way back from the big blue amusement park for consumers I was greeted with a rattling sensation and the smell of burning rubber on the expressway (the freeway to the locals). Yes, that's right, I'm sorry to report that Chastity lost one of her greatest assets. One that really earns her the money...her front tire (many "deflated," "popped," "flat," jokes can be made here...but I'm above that).
So, I pull over, empty the cheap furniture from my trunk onto the side of the road and get to work. I pull out the spare. I drag the "tire change tool kit" into action and I start to loosen the...wait a sec. It seems that these lug nuts are of a certain "theft proof" design. No worries, I dig around in the "tire change tool kit" for a while...no "theft proof wrench." I stand there staring at Chastity in disbelief. I dig through my trunk some more hoping the elusive tool will present itself...nothing. I stare at Chastity some more hoping she will puke it out and say, "Ha, you should have seen your face!" I understand, though, that automobiles do not talk nor do they puke essential tools for those in dire need. So I move on and consult the owners manual (very emasculating to have to look up how to change a tire) and confirm that there should indeed be a tool in my "tire change tool kit" to aid in this exercise. What am I going to do? I start assigning blame. I blame my car for being different (or special depending on your outlook), I blame German engineering (she's a VW), I blame myself for not checking the tools prior to this, I then blame Carmax (the bigbox car superstore from which she came who should have made sure the tools were present at point of purchase). I then remember that I paid a sum of extra money for some service warranty thing from Carmax. Perhaps they could be of service.
I find my "service protection plan" card and give them a call hoping they have roadside assistance...they don't. I further explain my situation and I get transferred to a manager. Perhaps my desperation is vocally transparent. The manager is kind enough to investigate the problem from his end. "If I have that tool," he says, "I'll try to get it out to you. Give me a minute. I'll call you back." Ok. Sounds good.
I wait for not one minute, but twenty until he calls me back. Twenty minutes on the side of the expressway with my car being shaken with every truck that passes. Twenty minutes just knowing that every car that passes knows that I've been there for twenty minutes unable to change my own tire (emasculating comes to mind again). Then I get the call.
The manager from Carmax was unable to locate said tool. He was, however, able to obtain a nugget of information much more valuable. It turns out that this "theft proof" design is only a facade...literally. The tool in question is used only to remove pieces of plastic that then reveal your standard lug nut to be removed with your normal tire iron. These pieces of plastic can easily be removed with a screwdriver, a car key, or anything else that can be wedged in there. These "theft proof nuts," the bane of my existence for the past twenty minutes, don't need a special tool after all. I am in shock. I told the manager that I'm a moron (he assured me that I'm merely stupid and to not be so hard on myself) and, as I was advised, I used a screwdriver to remove the plastic and change my tire as anyone would normally do. I loaded my cheap furnishings back into my car and was on my merry way. At least I got to take in the wonderment of the Los Angeles freeway system...it's quite impressive.
Turns out that "theft proof" actually means, you guessed it...emasculating. Good to know.

Til Next Time.

States: 15
Countries: 5

P.S. On a positive note, I got a free toy from work on Friday. Some rad car that turns into a menacing robot. No, it's not a transformer. No, it's not a GoBot. It just acts like one.