129 Ways to Get a Husband #2: Have Your Car Break Down at Strategic Places
After a trip to the local mountains with altitudes up to 7,000 ft, my tires were dangerously low as was my hope to ever find a man who would love me enough to drive to see me. (That's a future post.)
I never look at my tires, but something told me to that fine December morning. And sure enough, they were low as low could get without calling a tow truck. I might write a post about how to woo a tow truck driver, but then again I might not.
It was only one tire that was really low, which I found odd. As if God was creating this opportunity to drive a different direction that day. Why weren't both rear tires low, or all four? I drove the same way I always had up and back from the mountains. Weird.
Do I drove to the nearest gas station and spent a few moments searching beyond the gas pumps to where the water and air were located. I hoped this would be a full-service station, but I had to take what I could get. Haven't pumped air into my tires in years - many, many years.
I saw a young handsome lad (we will call him Man #1) putting air into his tires. First I heard the pump blasting air through the long black thing and this high pitched sound emanating from the tires. OK, I didn't hear any of that but did assume he was doing exactly what I needed to do and secretly hoped he would help me.
Quickly fixed my hair and checked my lipstick.
So I waited patiently until he was finished. Waited outside my car, not inside so he could get a glimpse of how pretty I had hoped he thought I was.
Didn't take long before he acknowledged me with that polite ex-military-gone-corporate vp-way. Painfully polite.
I quickly got into my car and maneuvered it so the long black thing would reach the tire. Grabbed my wallet and reading glasses and went to work. Hate this part. I leaned over to the instructions on the metal thing. Then using peripheral vision glanced at "him." Didn't have the patience to read the damn sticker with fading letters, so I stood erect again in extreme despair (in my head to create drama). That's when I heard, "I still have some time left, you should be able to fill it using my dollar."
Well, duh, I knew that.
Now how the hell do you get this cap off, I thought? I struggled. Not on purpose. Embarrassing. WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?
Anyone's hubby will do.
Said gentleman walked over and politely asked if he could help. Man #1 was even more handsome up close and the fact that he was helping me made him dreamy.
Took him all but 45 seconds to finish the tire.
BUT WAIT. There's MORE.
He walked around and inspected the other tires. Didn't say much, but if I didn't know any better, that car I had been driving was temporarily his for the duration of this major project.
Then BAM. It happened. ANOTHER man walked up and asked if he could help.
OOOH. Bad, bad, bad on Man #2's part. Man #1, responded quickly and painfully politely, "I got this. I used to be a mechanic in the military." And gave the look of death.
I love it when I'm fought over. Never happens, but when it does, I feel like a princess.
Man #2 left with his tail between his legs.
Man #1 finished checking remaining three tires.
We're good to go, I thought.
"You're good to go," Man #1 said.
"Thank you so much," and smiled in appreciation.
Wait. He didn't ask me for my number? What, huh? Hold on a second here.
As he got into his car I saw a blond woman sitting in the front passenger seat smiling at me.
Wonder how long they've been married.
Thank you Lady #1 for loaning out your man.
And God whispered, "Chin up little princess. There are more gas stations in the sea."
Twitter
I never look at my tires, but something told me to that fine December morning. And sure enough, they were low as low could get without calling a tow truck. I might write a post about how to woo a tow truck driver, but then again I might not.
It was only one tire that was really low, which I found odd. As if God was creating this opportunity to drive a different direction that day. Why weren't both rear tires low, or all four? I drove the same way I always had up and back from the mountains. Weird.
Do I drove to the nearest gas station and spent a few moments searching beyond the gas pumps to where the water and air were located. I hoped this would be a full-service station, but I had to take what I could get. Haven't pumped air into my tires in years - many, many years.
I saw a young handsome lad (we will call him Man #1) putting air into his tires. First I heard the pump blasting air through the long black thing and this high pitched sound emanating from the tires. OK, I didn't hear any of that but did assume he was doing exactly what I needed to do and secretly hoped he would help me.
Quickly fixed my hair and checked my lipstick.
So I waited patiently until he was finished. Waited outside my car, not inside so he could get a glimpse of how pretty I had hoped he thought I was.
Didn't take long before he acknowledged me with that polite ex-military-gone-corporate vp-way. Painfully polite.
I quickly got into my car and maneuvered it so the long black thing would reach the tire. Grabbed my wallet and reading glasses and went to work. Hate this part. I leaned over to the instructions on the metal thing. Then using peripheral vision glanced at "him." Didn't have the patience to read the damn sticker with fading letters, so I stood erect again in extreme despair (in my head to create drama). That's when I heard, "I still have some time left, you should be able to fill it using my dollar."
Well, duh, I knew that.
Now how the hell do you get this cap off, I thought? I struggled. Not on purpose. Embarrassing. WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?
Anyone's hubby will do.
Said gentleman walked over and politely asked if he could help. Man #1 was even more handsome up close and the fact that he was helping me made him dreamy.
Took him all but 45 seconds to finish the tire.
BUT WAIT. There's MORE.
He walked around and inspected the other tires. Didn't say much, but if I didn't know any better, that car I had been driving was temporarily his for the duration of this major project.
Then BAM. It happened. ANOTHER man walked up and asked if he could help.
OOOH. Bad, bad, bad on Man #2's part. Man #1, responded quickly and painfully politely, "I got this. I used to be a mechanic in the military." And gave the look of death.
I love it when I'm fought over. Never happens, but when it does, I feel like a princess.
Man #2 left with his tail between his legs.
Man #1 finished checking remaining three tires.
We're good to go, I thought.
"You're good to go," Man #1 said.
"Thank you so much," and smiled in appreciation.
Wait. He didn't ask me for my number? What, huh? Hold on a second here.
As he got into his car I saw a blond woman sitting in the front passenger seat smiling at me.
Wonder how long they've been married.
Thank you Lady #1 for loaning out your man.
And God whispered, "Chin up little princess. There are more gas stations in the sea."
Comments
Post a Comment