(aka Why Cousins Shouldnt Marry)
This morning, though starting a bit more slowly than most mornings (sometimes that pillow is just too persuasive!)- was a fairly ordinary morning. Nothing earth shattering to note. I got up, got dressed, did the "I have to pee dance" in the doorway of the bathroom while CJ finished up his morning get-ready-rituals... made coffee, got lunches together and walked out the door.
We climbed into the car, I drove around through the small apartment complex parking lot to the exit gate which borders a gas station. On the far end of the gas station (closest to me, furthest from the little convenience store), there is a big boxy metal air compressor thing for those pesky air-leaking tires... (or inflatable mattresses, pools and the like, I'd assume, if one were prepared enough to drag one to the gas station.)....At what I call "The Air Machine", there is a car parked.
Anyone who has ever had to use those noise boxes knows that its to your best advantage to position the car in such a way as to allow the tire that needs air to be in a somewhat close proximity to the Air Machine. This, however, works only in situations where only one tire, or one side of tires is needing air. Were you to need air in the right front tire and left rear tire, you are at a slight disadvantage, but its doable, nonetheless.
...unless you are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum- of which, both were standing at the Air Machine this morning.
Now, despite my desire to refer to the female at the Machine as Tweedle Dee (as it has a bit more of a feminine sound to it and is less degrading), I find that I would be lying to you (and subsequently to myself) if I did not acknowledge her far inferior brain capacity by calling her Tweedle Dum.
A young female and young male stood beside the car. Tweedle Dee (the male), was crouched beside Tire Number One- passenger side, front tire. I assume he was unscrewing the stupid, oddly placed, inexplicably difficult to maneauver little cap on the "Air Insert Place" on said tire.
Tweedle Dum (or, in this case, Tweedle Stupid), was pulling on the Air Machine Hose, slowly unraveling it in order to reach tire number One.
With feet firmly placed on the ground, as if she were stuck in dried cement- roughly 2 feet away from the Air machine box- Dum bent at the waist, reached as high and far as her tiny arms could and yanked. A few feet of hose stretched. Perhaps envisioning that the tire was much further away than it was, she again bent at the waist, reeeached out, grabbed the hose and yanked. To watch her, you'd think she was trying to pull a man on a slippery rope up over the side of a ship he'd just abandoned. There was far too much effort in those pulls than should have been necessary.
But that still wasnt enough.
Tweedle Dee, is working on airing up the tire.
Tweedle Dum is still yanking on the hose.
I pull out of the complex into traffic on the street that runs alongside the gas station, meaning I can still watch the show in progress.
Suddenly, its time to air up Tire Number Two: driver's side rear tire.
You cant get any further away on a car from Tire Number One- passenger front tire, to Tire Number Two- driver's rear tire. They are placed that way for a reason.
But its okay. Tweedle Dum has it under control.
Now, the Air Machine is really quite unhappy at this point. Dum is trying to rip its arm outta the socket and Dee isnt paying any attention. He just wants air in his tires.
Dum has it under control.
Left rear tire? I'm on it!
She marches, with a purpose, AROUND the front of the car, with her sights set on that rear tire. Nevermind the fact that the back end of the car is nearly completely lined up with the Air Machine and would have cut a 3 day, 2 night stay off her trip around the front...
Dum is walking at an angle as if fighting a strong wind, with the hose wrapped over her shoulder. Determination is set on her face. She is frustrated and cold and just wants to get in the dang car and go.
...that is when Air Machine says no.
Had that hose been made of a bungy cord, I am certain Dum would have ended up somewhere near the Texas/Oklahoma border... instead it merely stopped in its trek around the car, and paying in kind by giving a nice solid yank on Dum.
I mentioned the tug o' war game going on to CJ who replied with a hearty laugh and a "You saw that too?"
"Of course I did," I say. "I think it deserves a blog."
Last glance I shot their way as I turned the corner, Dee had taken the hose from Dum, walked back around the other side, and was busy filling up the driver side rear tire... with the hose comfortable resting on the ground, just beneath the rear bumper.
