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When I got to work, I checked my front right wheel to see why the drive had gotten so bumpy. It looked like someone had tried to take a bite out of the tire! Some of the tread had pulled away - where I could even stick my fingers in - and a bunch of wires were sticking out. I didn't want to drive home on it like that, or take my daughter to school with it the next morning, so I knew I'd have to take some time off from work that afternoon to get it replaced.
Luckily, the waitress who opened the restaurant in the morning was willing to stay on for an extra hour after the lunch rush while I had it replaced. A co-worker gave me directions to some tire shops and within an hour and a half I was back. I thanked my co-worker and agreed to finish-up her three tables so she could leave immeidately.
(How's that for a long intro?!)
So I walk up to the guy sitting by himself at table 203, and explain that I'll be finishing up for [J]. To make conversation, briefly explained how [J] had done me a favor by letting me get my front tires replaced, along with a short description of what the damage looked like.
But I wasn't expecting his reaction. He began to look very concerned and upset. He started shaking forward & back, like a kid with a zinc deficiency, as he asked with a trembling voice, "You had to change a tire?"
Uh-oh.
Did he suffer a tragic tire-related incident in his childhood, scarring him for life?
Did his wife/mother run off with the Michelin Man?
Or was he just nuts.
When I shared the 'tire guy' experience with some co-workers, one of them said "There's a reason some people eat alone ..."
(I chose not to admit that I, too, eat alone sometimes.)
Luckily, the waitress who opened the restaurant in the morning was willing to stay on for an extra hour after the lunch rush while I had it replaced. A co-worker gave me directions to some tire shops and within an hour and a half I was back. I thanked my co-worker and agreed to finish-up her three tables so she could leave immeidately.
(How's that for a long intro?!)
So I walk up to the guy sitting by himself at table 203, and explain that I'll be finishing up for [J]. To make conversation, briefly explained how [J] had done me a favor by letting me get my front tires replaced, along with a short description of what the damage looked like.
But I wasn't expecting his reaction. He began to look very concerned and upset. He started shaking forward & back, like a kid with a zinc deficiency, as he asked with a trembling voice, "You had to change a tire?"
Uh-oh.
Did he suffer a tragic tire-related incident in his childhood, scarring him for life?
Did his wife/mother run off with the Michelin Man?
Or was he just nuts.
When I shared the 'tire guy' experience with some co-workers, one of them said "There's a reason some people eat alone ..."
(I chose not to admit that I, too, eat alone sometimes.)
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