Things have just been going a little too well for your buddy Boogie the last few weeks, so I knew karma was going to bite me in the tuckus at some point. Last night, I was whacked with a vengeance.
I was driving to class in the pouring rain when I felt a distinct "bump bump bump" coming from the front passenger side of my shitbox of a car. I handled the situation as I do every auto-related foible: I ignored it. But it would not be denied - when I tried to start up from the stop position, my tire spun in one place, shredding to pieces.
I pulled into the Whole Foods parking lot, pulled out my jack and started cranking my little shitbox into the air. Now, I'm a bit of a foppish dandy by trade, but I have changed a tire before in my otherwise-priveleged life. It was raining pretty hard on me, so I tried to do it quickly.
As I started to pull the shredded tire off, the jack slipped from under the car, jamming it firmly in the undercarriage. So I had a flat tire and couldn't pull my jack out. In the pissing rain. Sweet.
There's an old adage: "Never send a bassist to do a guitarist's job." So I called good ol' reliable Nate Diggity to come by with his jack to rescue my jack and get this damn flat changed. Like the true superhero he is, Nate was there in a flash with his jack. I didn't understand why he was wearing the cape and the star-spangled corset, but hey - I was grateful, so I didn't say anything.
With my second jack of the evening, I cranked up my piece of shit car. Just as I was about to pull the original jack out and change the tire, the new jack slipped out from under. Now, the car had two jacks trapped underneath it. I may have been imagining things, but I think I actually heard the Three Stooges theme playing softly in the background.
Just as Nate and I were calling AAA to have a bunch of recovering alcoholics come jack up our car, a good samaritan walked out of the Whole Foods, grabbed his jack and cranked up the car in about 2 seconds (while his girlfriend sat in the car pissed at him for taking the time to help us). Quickly, I rescued the other two jacks and put the spare tire on. The third jack started to slip again, but Nate managed to hold up the car using only his massive musculature.
As the good samaritan was leaving, we had the following conversation:
Me: Yeah, I don't know why the jacks were slipping so much. It must have been the wet ground.
Good Samaritan: You have the emergency brake on, right?
Me: Uhhhhh.....
As the good samaritan shook his head and got into his car, Nate and I called after him: "Sorry. We're musicians."
While Nate and I suck at changing tires, we are more than competent at delivering the rock and roll. Last chance to get on the list for the BU show with Casey Desmond tomorrow night. I'm off tomorrow so there will be no journal. See you all at college!
I was driving to class in the pouring rain when I felt a distinct "bump bump bump" coming from the front passenger side of my shitbox of a car. I handled the situation as I do every auto-related foible: I ignored it. But it would not be denied - when I tried to start up from the stop position, my tire spun in one place, shredding to pieces.
I pulled into the Whole Foods parking lot, pulled out my jack and started cranking my little shitbox into the air. Now, I'm a bit of a foppish dandy by trade, but I have changed a tire before in my otherwise-priveleged life. It was raining pretty hard on me, so I tried to do it quickly.
As I started to pull the shredded tire off, the jack slipped from under the car, jamming it firmly in the undercarriage. So I had a flat tire and couldn't pull my jack out. In the pissing rain. Sweet.
There's an old adage: "Never send a bassist to do a guitarist's job." So I called good ol' reliable Nate Diggity to come by with his jack to rescue my jack and get this damn flat changed. Like the true superhero he is, Nate was there in a flash with his jack. I didn't understand why he was wearing the cape and the star-spangled corset, but hey - I was grateful, so I didn't say anything.
With my second jack of the evening, I cranked up my piece of shit car. Just as I was about to pull the original jack out and change the tire, the new jack slipped out from under. Now, the car had two jacks trapped underneath it. I may have been imagining things, but I think I actually heard the Three Stooges theme playing softly in the background.
Just as Nate and I were calling AAA to have a bunch of recovering alcoholics come jack up our car, a good samaritan walked out of the Whole Foods, grabbed his jack and cranked up the car in about 2 seconds (while his girlfriend sat in the car pissed at him for taking the time to help us). Quickly, I rescued the other two jacks and put the spare tire on. The third jack started to slip again, but Nate managed to hold up the car using only his massive musculature.
As the good samaritan was leaving, we had the following conversation:
Me: Yeah, I don't know why the jacks were slipping so much. It must have been the wet ground.
Good Samaritan: You have the emergency brake on, right?
Me: Uhhhhh.....
As the good samaritan shook his head and got into his car, Nate and I called after him: "Sorry. We're musicians."
While Nate and I suck at changing tires, we are more than competent at delivering the rock and roll. Last chance to get on the list for the BU show with Casey Desmond tomorrow night. I'm off tomorrow so there will be no journal. See you all at college!
11 Comments:
You didn't put on the emergency brake? You are aware that you are an idiot.
Well, in all fairness to me, everyone has a different definition of an "emergency."
But, yes. I am an idiot.
You let another dude... and one coming out of Whole Foods!... rescue you?
You're under arrest from the Man Police.
You should have seen the look on the dude's girlfriend's face. She was flabbergasted, hated the two of us, and absolutely exasperated with her manfriend. If he hadn't finished when he did, I swear she was gonna deck me.
You have to engage your emergency brake when you change a tire? I thought you didn't need to do that when you drive a pussy-pussy-geigh-geigh-pussy-pussy automatic?
Wow. You guys are lucky you didn't injure yourselves. Brendo, you definitely need to overcompensate for this in some other way. You know, drink yourself under the table or something at the OK/GO show.
---==> Chris
You have to engage your emergency brake when you change a tire? I thought you didn't need to do that when you drive a pussy-pussy-geigh-geigh-pussy-pussy automatic?
Me neither. I've used my e-brake exactly zero times since I bought this piece of crap car.
Still, I suppose it's good that Vinny didn't answer my call for help. We would have had three jacks stuck under the car.
You should have seen the look on the dude's girlfriend's face. She was flabbergasted, hated the two of us, and absolutely exasperated with her manfriend. If he hadn't finished when he did, I swear she was gonna deck me.
It's safe to say that guy deserved a lot better. He was fucking McGyver (if McGyver-status can be gained by mastering basic automotive repair).
Brendan tries to jack himself, but it slips and gets stuck. He calls Nate for help with the jacking.
Unfortunately, Nate suffers the same fate when he gets his stuck cranking Brendan's "little shitbox into the air".
It takes the kindness of a stranger to get them out of that wet, sticky situation with his speedy jacking.
His girlfriend is pissed.
(Rated NC-17.)
Very well done, handsome stranger. That's up for "Journal Comment of the Year," I'd say.
Happy to oblige.
Post a Comment
<< Home