Tire Karma

I just got 4 new tires a few months ago. It was on the night of the first Presidential Debate, and I was watching it in the "waiting sector" of the tire shop when lo and behold, the dude working behind the counter realized his favorite, most inspirational show The Family Guy was on (barf and insipidness), so he changed the channel. When he left the room I snuck behind the counter, found the remote control, and changed it back to the debate. He looked a little confused when he came back into the room, but anyway, I'll be paying him another visit this very day, because my back left tire made an evil alliance with a nail, and I've got to ask Mr. Warranty to make good on his reason for being.

But first the epic and heroic tale of the Sabbath Tire Scandal!  I discovered the tire tragedy when I left Sunday Services.  Accolades fly with unprecedented velocity in the direction of homeboy Jeff, who came all the way back to church to put on my spare for me.

He's working away...

The other dudes drifted over, wanting a piece of the action, grunting, and showing their manliness and automotive expertise (at first I felt embarrassed that they seemed all concerned but then I remembered that the Y chromosome makes unavoidably THRIVE off this stuff. Flex the muscles, be a part of the action, they wouldn't miss it for a Miley Cyrus concert or a Bromance episode.  Moths to a flame.

Mike Cunningham took it upon himself to be the foreman of the project, barking out useless orders at rapid fire speed, and handing out his Tax Attorney business card to anyone who wanted (or was willing) to marvel at it.

Now the job is done, I'm off in a minute to catch up on my soaps at the Tire Shop (traveling 30mph with the donut), and don't worry, I was sure to give homeboy a few of these for his services: