Rolling Down Fairfax

Today, I thought I would write about a past experience I had last summer, which was one of the most embarrassing/hilarious moments of my life. After getting three flat tires in a span of five months, I thought I was out of the clear until I was at least forty years old or so- I mean who really gets that many flats? (Answer- Who Else But Erin?)

So, I was driving home from work last summer, I think it was a Friday, so I was in a good mood- ready for the weekend to start! When I rolled onto Hayworth Ave, I decided to park in front of my building instead of in the parking garage, because as my roommate Mary knows, it was like Austin Powers  trying to get in and out of our spots in that damn garage.

When I parked my car, I heard an unmistakably horrific sound- the air shooting out of my tire at record speed- just gushing out. I didn’t know what to do because there was no way I could stop it, it was happening so fast! I thought about stuffing my bubble gum in the whole but then realized that I wasn’t a cartoon- so I called my dad. When in doubt, call Pop- it’s a great motto. As I suspected he couldn’t help me because in his words, “Erin, what would you like me to do? I am in Maine and you are in California!” Hmmm, I knew that obviously but there is just something comforting about your father’s voice in situations like that. I may be a girly girl, but that doesn’t mean this chick doesn’t know how to change a flat- the only problem was the spare in my trunk was already flat due to my previous incidents. And of course I didn’t have AAA (I believe I signed up that night). So I got on the phone and called Anthony, Mary and Beth…the body shop down the street closed in an hour and Beth lived the closest to me and was off work, so she was the one who came to my rescue to repair my spare tire. When she got there, I was on the side of the road, my work clothes covered in black smudges, and looking a bit frazzled.

I told her that I just needed her to literally drive me around the corner and then I could take it from there. My plan was for her to drop me and my spare off at the body shop and by the time they repaired it, Mary would be home and could pick me up and I could change the tire- it sounded like a great plan! Except once Beth dropped me off and I handed over the tire to the guys, they patched it so quick, I could still see Beth’s car driving away. I didn’t want to call her back because I hated to be a nuisance and Mary still wouldn’t be home for another hour- I didn’t think it would take that quick to fix a tire at a busy body shop! So, it only seemed logical (since I lived around the corner) to roll the tire (like the kids in the old movies did down the tire tracks with the sticks) back to my car. So, that is exactly what I did- in my work clothes, down Fairfax Ave, in broad daylight. No shame here! Thanks Pop for teaching me how to change a flat tire and thanks mom for telling me there was nothing I couldn’t do. Except I am sure there were things she never thought I actually would…