So this morning, despite the fact that my alarm is set to 6:45, I don't wake up until 8:30. Fine, no gym. Oh, but now I have to rush a little because the car is on the wrong side of the street and I have to move it by 9:30. No prob. Comb my hair and grab my hat... out the door in seconds flat. (Its a Beatles line...I have neither hair nor a hat.)
Checking the car as I always do before getting in, I notice that the back left tire is really low. Strange..didn't notice that before. So I drove to the gas station to get some air. Pretty much right at the moment that I realize the tire wasn't really reinflating was when I noticed the stab wounds. Some fucker (or fuckers) put four half inch holes in my vinyl top, directly above the tire. Goddammit. Why you gotta mess with a man's ride? Oh, by the way, did I mention I jammed my thumb badly at last night's dodgeball game. (We swept all four games for those of you keeping score at home.) Do you know how hard it is to change a tire with no right thumb? Functioning opposable thumbs are a critical component of the tire changing process, particularly since the jack that Ford provides was ergonomically designed to be a cruel practical joke. Throw on top of that the ridiculous amount of softball equipment I usually keep in my trunk, making access to the donut quite the exercise in one thumbed unpacking. I got the tire, which on the Mustang, of course, is heavy and fat off, but not before playing wheel lock adapter scavenger hunt inside the car. An examination of the tire pinpointed the last and most devistating of the half inch stab wounds inflicted on my car.
Now its 10:42 and I'm on the Manhattan bring, transmitting this post from Typepad Mobile, finally on my way. Do you know how badly I would have liked to catch the assholes who did this? Note to self...store tire iron in winter coat. My thumb hurts from thumbing this, too.
I'll deal with the donut and new tire over the weekend. For now, its parked. Who stabs cars in Bay Ridge?