Once I turned seventeen, like most of my schooling peers I immediately registered for driving school, seemingly one of the most essential skills in our increasingly urbanized world. For a couple of weeks, we sat through near daily lessons on competently steering a motor vehicle, perfectly edging into the perfect parking spot and hopefully obeying the few traffic rules we actually could remember.
Yet our driving instructors never actually taught us the most important lesson there was.
Yes, on how to change a flat tyre. Pathetic flaw in our living skills syllabus that taught us how to mend a flower pot rather than the esoteric intricacies of auto mechanics.
Last time I actually successfully managed that particular feat was a decade back as a house officer when I carelessly ran over a nail somewhere on the way to work. Sweaty back-breaking work for a quarter of an hour just to remove the inflexibly tenacious nuts on the lackluster tyre with the miserably ineffectual tools on hand - which provokingly enough only took two minutes at the repair shop.
So I swore never to do so again.
Till I suffered another contemptible flat just two days back.
Groaned as I heard the horrible flapping sound made by a gasping tyre in its death throes. Honestly was at my wit's end on what to do since I could barely recall the steps on how to change the tyre. But as they say you find help when you need it most. Age-old adage turns out to be true, and I usually meet the very best people when my car breaks down. This time, my sweet helpful samaritan was Eager Edison.
Who coincidentally came over for dinner with his beau, our shockingly *hush hush* discreet Prudent Patrick.
Paul : You guys just wait while I get the tyre changed. Give me ten minutes.
Edison : No worries, I can help.
Paul : You know how to do it?
Edison : Not only do I know how to do it, I actually won tyre changing contests!
Paul : You do know you'll be all sweaty and stinky afterward.
Edison : No problem, can always shower and change.
Paul : True, I can always scrub your back.
Not only a pretty boy but great at rotating tyres. Definitely a keeper!
Yet our driving instructors never actually taught us the most important lesson there was.
Yes, on how to change a flat tyre. Pathetic flaw in our living skills syllabus that taught us how to mend a flower pot rather than the esoteric intricacies of auto mechanics.
Last time I actually successfully managed that particular feat was a decade back as a house officer when I carelessly ran over a nail somewhere on the way to work. Sweaty back-breaking work for a quarter of an hour just to remove the inflexibly tenacious nuts on the lackluster tyre with the miserably ineffectual tools on hand - which provokingly enough only took two minutes at the repair shop.
So I swore never to do so again.
 |
| Dammit I can't believe I got a flat again. |
Groaned as I heard the horrible flapping sound made by a gasping tyre in its death throes. Honestly was at my wit's end on what to do since I could barely recall the steps on how to change the tyre. But as they say you find help when you need it most. Age-old adage turns out to be true, and I usually meet the very best people when my car breaks down. This time, my sweet helpful samaritan was Eager Edison.
Who coincidentally came over for dinner with his beau, our shockingly *hush hush* discreet Prudent Patrick.
Paul : You guys just wait while I get the tyre changed. Give me ten minutes.
Edison : No worries, I can help.
Paul : You know how to do it?
Edison : Not only do I know how to do it, I actually won tyre changing contests!
Paul : You do know you'll be all sweaty and stinky afterward.
Edison : No problem, can always shower and change.
Paul : True, I can always scrub your back.
Not only a pretty boy but great at rotating tyres. Definitely a keeper!
3 comments:
I can change tyre...but not in my heels...
thank God I learnt how to change flat wheels before I learnt how to drive
I can but I'd need aircondition, tb! Damned hot business!
Good job, malimo!
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