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BronxWench

Tires and tribulations

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So, the other day, I managed to pick up a screw in my tire. I found this out on Saturday, when I got into my car, started it up, and it helpfully informed me that my rear tire on the driver's side only had 8psi. I drove carefully to the gas station, put air into the offending tire, and noticed the screw, later determined to be what is known as a self drilling SMS, or "zippy," after a thorough interrogation by the daft bugger.

I had a hot movie date with Youngerspawn, so when it appeared that the tire would hold pressure, I headed off for an afternoon of frivolity and popcorn consumption, and returned home safely and happily, with my well-screwed tire. After the interrogation to identify the nature of the screw, the daft bugger gave me a list of instructions on how to proceed.

You see, I had an appointment to have my car serviced on Monday. It seemed logical to have them replace the tire, or both rear tires, since having both tires on an axle match is generally a good idea. But I was not to mention the screw, you see. Let them find it, I was cautioned. Then I could immediately wield my superior negotiating skills to induce them to replace the rear tires at a good price.

I know the daft one well. Any decision I made would wind up being wrong, and I prefer not to be duplicitous with the people poking under the hood of my car. Call me silly. So, he decided he would go instead to a tire center and have my tires fixed. He asked the size, and I informed him that I had absolutely no idea, but I'd go check the car. Oh, no, he said, He could check on line. And he did, proudly showing me the result of his online searches and shopping. This is apparently his version of bringing home prey. "Look, woman! I have found tires!"

Armed with his knowledge, he set off on Sunday to replace my damaged tire. He returned, triumphant, in time to take us to baseball practice, and on the way, he proudly informed me that he'd gotten a good deal, although the tires were a little smaller. Oh, and the service indicator for my 4-wheel drive had gone off. I was to tell the service people on Monday that I didn't need my tires rotated, but I probably would want to mention the service indicator. Oh, and don't tell them the new tires were smaller. (Because they wouldn't notice this, you see. They're factory trained and certified technicians who see nothing we don't want them to see. It's his version of the Force, which I have now dubbed the Farce.)

I go to the service appointment Monday. I mention the new tires, and not needing rotation. I mention my service indicator for the 4-wheel drive. I agree that if there was no actual problem, I'd have to pay the diagnostic charge for wasting a tech's time to look for nothing. And then I settled in to wait for the verdict.

They did notice the size difference of the tires. In fact, that was why I got the indicator. The smaller rear tires were revolving at a faster pace than the larger front tires, and the onboard computer noticed this. Not being an AI, it decided to simply shut off my 4-wheel drive capability in an effort to get my attention, which worked. It also cost an extra $150 for wasting a tech's time to determine that we were stupid enough not to match tire sizes.

I tell the daft one this good news, along with how much else I spent on service. He tells me to go buy two new tires. At this point, I'm fairly dubious since I don't want to replace the front tires, too. This whole exercise has become fraught with peril. We go on line, and I notice that there are TWO trim options for my tires. The option he chose is the too-small size. The other option is what I had on the car in the first place.

Now, perhaps I'm simply too much of a female to grasp these things, but I was perplexed as to (a) why no one involved would check the tires he was replacing to see what size they were, or consult the handy sticker inside the driver's door which clearly states the tires size, and (b) why an otherwise reputable tire dealer would knowingly put the wrong size tire on my car in the first place. I suspect the daft one simply insisted that it was fine. Still, I called the tire place, and they agreed that they would look at my car and perhaps replace the incorrect new tires.

Which they did, today. For an additional $2.82. I now have four tires of identical size, no warning indicator telling me that my 4-wheel drive is in need of service, and a car that runs properly. And the daft one gets to pay a $150 "wow, you're a berk" diagnostic charge, which equates to roughly another new tire for the car, and then some. Some things are priceless...

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:lol: He's a brilliant electrician, but he's just stubborn. When he was growing up, car engines were large and roomy, and he poked around in them with his dad. Now, they're compact, computerized, and he's not the whiz he was, but he hates admitting that.

Me, I'm perfectly fine with knowing how to add wiper fluid and antifreeze, check my oil, and pump gas when I need to do it myself. Aside from that, I prefer having a reliable service center, and I'm happy to pay them to do what I can't do.

But seriously, when he tells me to read the door sticker to find out my correct cold tire psi (35psi, because I did look), I'd sort of expect him to have done the same for tire size. Just saying...

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Which they did, today. For an additional $2.82. I now have four tires of identical size, no warning indicator telling me that my 4-wheel drive is in need of service, and a car that runs properly. And the daft one gets to pay a $150 "wow, you're a berk" diagnostic charge, which equates to roughly another new tire for the car, and then some. Some things are priceless...

Awww... *giggles*

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I laugh only because I feel your pain... To bad it doesn't work for you to tell the daft bugger that you'll do it his way and then just go about doing it the way you want, would save you a lot of hassle it seems.

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I laugh only because I feel your pain... To bad it doesn't work for you to tell the daft bugger that you'll do it his way and then just go about doing it the way you want, would save you a lot of hassle it seems.

That's usually what I do, but we have this sort of unspoken agreement regarding the car.

I am delighted to report that it runs just fine now, though, having been up to the lake and back today. It's gorgeous - 75F and sunny. How could I stay home? :lol: And I did pick up orange juice on the way back for the sickly daft one...

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I'm dying laughing ... thankfully Mr. is talented with vehicles, but we have walked this road in other "manly man" aspects of life!

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They like to feel needed. I had a boyfriend once who was genuinely affronted that I replaced a malfunctioning toilet cistern while he was asleep, as if I'd stolen the job from him. This despite the fact that we worked together, and every night he used to observe me climbing into dangerous machinery with a toolbox to dismantle it, and later rebuild it.

I'm afraid I have no patience whatsoever. *shakes head*

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There's feeling needed and there's just silly, and yes, my daft one can cross the line. I tend to let him have at it when it comes to electrical work, since he's got a very substantial background in that. I am the painter, since he's dreadful at painting, and we both tend to be decent at the rest of the chores.

It's just cars. He's so stubborn about cars. I actually find it amusing most of the time, as long as we have the money to fix his little hiccups. :D

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