[Of course, knowing how much SWMBO loathes orthodontia, she might have been grateful for the chance to biff an appointment. But alas, I changed out the tire and she made her appointment on time.]
Now, one of the unpleasant side effects of having a flat tire is that you will end up either repairing the tire or replacing it, depending on the location of the puncture. And the way our luck runs in these matters, it’s “replace.” Every. Fucking. Time.
As it was this time.
With me frantically preparing for a ten-day out-of-town sojourn, it was left to the Missus to take the car to Costco for a replacement tire. We were hoping that the road hazard warranty that came with the punctured tire - the six-month-old punctured tire - would minimize our exposure. And, since we were ready to replace the (old and worn-out) two front tires anyway, she planned to order those as well.
Bad luck. They were out of the tires we wanted.
Now, here’s where things got interesting. Somehow or other, the Missus got the Costco boys to agree to (1) put a temporary replacement on our car until the tires we wanted came in next Tuesday, and (2) sell us all three tires for the sum total of fifty simoleons. That’s fifty bucks for three tires.
I was impressed. It was like sticking your hand in a steaming turd and pulling out a pearl.
Now, here’s the kicker: I check in with SWMBO this evening, and she informs me that when she went to Costco today to get the three tires, they ended up replacing all four tires with brand-new Michelins...for the grand sum of zilch. Zip. Nada. Bupkis.
Free.
Four tires, free. Now, that’s more like pulling a diamond outta that turd.
The Missus swears that no sexual favors of any kind were exchanged.
As far as I’m concerned, she needs to get into the negotiation business. International treaties, hostage situations, you name it. She loves her teaching, but this...this is raw talent.
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