So as I stood looming over my flat tire earlier this week … OH! Here was the culprit for the flat tire …
Anyway, as I was saying I looked at my flat tire and I came up with a clever plan. I don’t trust those flimsy little jacks they always put in cars. And I don’t know anyone with one of those really awesome hydraulic jacks, (and it was freaking freezing!) so I decided to take my mother’s car and drive down to Harold’s Super Service and see if they would let me borrow one of their portable air tanks. Pretty clever idea huh?
Speaking of Harold’s, a quick story for you. Back in the day, when I was in High School, Harold’s Service Station was located right there close to the high school. This was brilliant on Harold’s part, because we all know that most high school kids drive really shitty cars. So he got tons of business from all of us whose cars wouldn’t start, or whose cars were making a mysterious thumping noise and pumping out smoke like a fog machine in a strip club. Or they were right there to help on those occasions when someone’s tires got slashed. These things happen, ya know.
Anyway, it was pretty much running joke when I was a senior, that anytime someone was having car trouble, we would yell “Better go get Harold!” Then one day sombody, and I really think it was me, but a couple of other people, Chris W. and Matt B, have also taken credit for this, so I’ll say we all started calling Harold’s “Harold’s Super Service.”
Hey look, we were high school goobers, we thought it was funny.
The only reason I tell you that story is because a couple of years after the new high school was built, Harold bought a new place and moved his business away from that original location to a new spot in town. And he renamed his business “HAROLD’S SUPER SERVICE!”
And that grumpy old man never even said “Thank You.” Asshole.
Anyway, were was I?
Oh yeah, I went down to Harold’s Super Service and asked to borrow their portable air tank. And without my having to sing any piece of paper, leave a copy of my ID or even pay a deposit he let me borrow that air tank.
Seriously, the guy down there didn’t even know my name. You only get service like that in a small town. Or at least I’ve never experienced that kind of service in bigger cities. Of course it also could have just been my charm and boyish good looks that won him over immediately too.
Anyway, I aired up my flat tire and drove right back down to Harold’s and after a few minutes of waiting my turn and $5.33, later Joe the Tire Fixer had fixed my flat and I was on my way.
Seriously, the name on his nametag was “Joe.” Yeah, I’m sure his name was probably actually Bobby Joe or Billy Joe or Jimmy Joe or Donnie Joe or whatever, but his nametag did say “Joe.”
Of course when I worked for the Highway Department during the summer after my senior year of high school we all wore work shirts with a fake name on them. We did this because people were always so annoyed at being inconvenienced by having their roads improved to make their lives easier, they would call into the state complaint line and bitch about people on road crews. So, we wore shirts with fake names on the nametags so when our local offices got the complaints, nobody knew who the complaint was really about. Clever huh?
But, since Joe works at this place every single day and has been there for some time, I doubt he’s using a fake name. I’m sure you feel better about that now.
So uh .. anyway .. uh what was I talking about? Oh yeah, I got my tire fixed for about 5 bucks and didn’t have to put the spare on myself. That made me happy so I thought I’d share. Cause I figure that whatever makes me happy, makes you happy too.
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