Yesterday my husband decided to take our van into the tire store to have a new rim put on the wheel that vibrated the vehicle quite bad (his opinion, not mine).
The vibration occurs between 70-75 mph, and this is about cruising speed in our van on the highway. 80 mph is not a comfortable drive.
The vibration is also on a rear wheel so, in effect, it gently jiggles our children in highway induced temporary comas. And this is not bad at all.
However, ergo, alas and Therefore, on his day off, after driving about 800 miles this weekend with the jiggle and subsequently listening to him bitch/moan and despair over this situation, he decides to go to the local tire place to get the rim replaced. Instead of just taking it to the place right next door to his work today where he knows the quality of work is excellent. He just had four new tires put on the day before our little road trip.
So, while the van is up on a tire jack during the initial inspection, the idiot technician (and I use the term loosely) essentially drops a Ford 250 cargo van onto the cement because he didn’t use the jack properly. Hubby gets to spend the rest of the day running around to get quotes for the insurance company ( the tire company, not ours) and finds out that it is a $2200 fuck up. ( the vans side doors don’t close properly and the frame looks to be slightly bent.)
What Does This Mean To Shirley? Shirley will be out of her wheels while the van is getting repaired. It also means that because Mr. Ujest just can’t let things be and has to dick around with stuff until it is broken, I will be the one with the inconvenience.
My husband did state that he should have stayed in bed, I told him he should have stayed in bed or gone to work, but wanted to get things done on his day off.
Another chapter in Shirley’s book of " Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?"
won’t make you feel any better, but, your story reminds me of this: Went over to my friend Peggy’s house. Saw a HUGE dent in the back of their car. I said to Peg’s mom : What’s that??? She replied "That’s a ‘watch the rock Harry’ "…
Harry didn’t listen any better, I guess.
I think you’re being a little harsh, Shirley. Your husband cannot possibly be blamed for what the idiot mechanic did. He probably took the car there in good faith. He may also have a valid reason for not taking your car to the repair shop next to his workplace.
Incidentally, the problem with your tire was that it probably was out of balance - maybe a small counterweight attached to the rim became dislodged and fell off. Now you may think that it was just a matter of an uncomfortable ride, but in the long run, an unbalanced tire will wear unevenly, hence shortening it’s life considerably.
Whether you are crawling along or travelling at your normal 75mph, your safety on the road is entirely dependent on four small areas of tire tread. You owe it to yourself to get any tire defects repaired sooner than later, otherwise the very things that tie your car to the road may fail you when you need them most.
Eh. They always stick together. Look on the bright side, Shirley. You can use this as ammo for a long, long time. Examples:
Him: I think we should go to Graceland for our family vacation.
You: Like you thought that TIRE needed to be fixed? Sure, because THAT turned out so well…
I always thought that things like that only happened to women. In particular, me. How refreshing to finally have someone come forth with tales of woe on the man.
While it was a stroke of bad luck, taking the car to have it checked was the right thing to do. Or would you feel better if the wheel had just disintegrated while you were doing 75mph?
Hmm. I think sailor, Shirley’s husband, and my wife should get together. Possibly for extensive therapy.
Missus Ukulele: Did you hear that?
Me: What?
Missus Ukulele: The car is making a noise!
Me: I don’t hear anything.
Missus Ukulele: THERE! THERE! Did you hear that noise?
Me: I don’t hear anything.
Missus Ukulele: YOU NEVER HEAR ANYTHING! NOTHING’S EVER WRONG, AS FAR AS YOU’RE CONCERNED! THE CAR COULD EXPLODE, AND YOU WOULDN’T ADMIT YOU HEAR ANYTHING!
Me: I swear to god I don’t hear anything.
