The Low Tire

So we're safely back home, bellies full of Newk's and looking forward to a fun visit from an old friend tomorrow. Because the visit with The Barbara didn't provide nearly as much content as I thought it would (it's like she KNOWS I have a blog!), I thought I'd share one of my favorite vintage stories.

I stayed with The Barbara for two weeks while she was recovering from surgery several years ago... 2002 or 2003, maybe. One day, I noticed that her tire was low, and casually mentioned that fact to her and said that the next time we went out I'd stop at the gas station to fill it up. No big deal, right? Wrong.

"How do you know it's low?"
"Come and look at it. You can tell."
"How do you know how much to fill it?"
"41 PSI."
"HOW DO YOU KNOW?"
"It says right on the tire."
"WHERE?"

I took her to the garage and showed her.

"Well, what does PSI mean?"
"Pounds per square inch."
"How do you know what's in there already?"
"The gauge at the gas station will tell me."
"How will you know what you're doing?"
"Because I've done it many times before on my own car."

She seemed cautiously satisfied, so we walked back into the house. I went to the restroom and she walked toward the kitchen, shaking her head. When I came out of the restroom, I realized that she'd gotten out every record of every tire service she'd ever had on that car and was spreading them out frantically.

"What are you doing, Barbara?"
"Well, I just want to make sure."
"Kay."

Less than a minute later, while I'm fixing myself a drink, I hear a big HUFF from behind me. She grabs for the phone.

"Hello, I have a 1995 Ford Explorer with X Brand tires and my daughter-in-law says one of the tires is low. What should they be filled to? Oh, look on the tire? My daughter-in-law looked on the tire already, but I just want to make sure. So between 40 and 42 PSI? Okay, thank you."

I win.

So we schedule a trip to the gas station. I fill up the gas tank and get the air turned on. I unscrew the valve cap. I go to put it in my pocket. I get smacked on the shoulder and a hand shoved in my face. "Give it to me, I don't want you to lose it." I hand over the valve cap, and here's how my next two minutes went:

"It's 35 PSI."
*2 seconds later*
"What's it at now?"
"Not sure yet, give it a second."
"Just check."
"36 PSI."
"Oh." *5 seconds later* "Check again."
"38 PSI."
"What's it at now?"
"39 PSI."

Annnd that's when the air shut off.

"WHAT HAPPENED?"
"I took too long to fill up the tire. I'll just go back in and get them to turn it back on."

I did.

"Barbara, just give me a few minutes. I'll let you know when it's done."
"Oh, okay."

*5 seconds later*

"Why are you showing your underwear to everyone?"

My pants had slipped down a little and like half an inch of my panties were showing because I was crouched down filling up the tire. Sigh.

I finished filling the tire to 41 PSI and made a quick check of the other tires to make sure they were okay. The rear driver side was at 38. I decided it wasn't worth it and got back in the car and left.

(Y'all's comments seriously had me busting up over the past few days. Thanks for all the laughs.)