The Spare Tire Dilemma.

And it just occurred to me that there might be another meaning to those words but no,  I’m not talking about the slight protuberance around my mid section.  *ahem*

You do believe that it is “slight”,  right?  I mean,  compared to when I was 22,  it’s certainly bigger,  but compared to others whom I see of my vintage, I have a long way to go before any thoughts of having a “gastric by-pass”.   But let us not be a kettle calling the pot (belly) black here.

 

A little too much beer consumption comes to mind.  The scary part is,  my dear ole Dad had a somewhat considerable protuberance,  and he never drank a drop of beer in his life.  Maybe something to do with “wheat belly”,  but that’s a whole huge controversial topic of which I understand very little.

 

What also occurred to me,  was something that Travelling Companion said this morning,  before she said too much else,  and that was, “Made it through another month”.  This pretty much sums up our state of being at the present time,  which also explains the gaps where there should or could be daily blog posts.  Some days I got nothin’.

Way back yonder in the springtime,  when it was tire changing time,  the suggestion was made that I should retrieve the spare set of tires so that they could be delivered to the Company that Cannot be Named, either here in Wienerland,  or up in Shrems at an undisclosed location.  Well,  I know where it is,  but I won’t say. 

I’ll admit that there are times when I fail to use good judgement,  (only “times”?) which was the case in this instance when I simply should have said “No!”,  although perhaps not that emphatically.   

When we left the Netherlands and had to give up the Audi,  I only made sure to have a business card from the garage where the tires were kept, which I put in a little box with a bunch of other stuff that more or less belonged to the car,  and that was that.  I don’t remember if I left a note or not.  We knew who was going to be getting the Audi,  and I think T.C. mentioned it to him as well.  The bonus was,  they spoke reasonable English at that garage.  Of course,  that’s quite common in the Netherlands.

But instead,  I told the Tire Changing Dudes that I wanted to take the tires with me,  and they dutifully bagged them up and we shoved them in the car.   Of course,  now they’re in our storage locker.  

Just getting them into the storage locker isn’t all that easy in this case either.  It’s not like I can pull up in front of my garage and cart two tires at a time over to the shed or anything.  No,  I have to find a parking spot,  lug them into the building,  take the car away to the parking garage (before I get a ticket since I didn’t pay to park)  and then lug them downstairs.   Just such a lotta fun.

Of course,  they can’t stay there,  so at some point in time I have to reverse the whole process.

 

Those big things in the plastic bags are the winter tires.

There’s not a lot of space in there to start with,  and believe me,  it’s just so very handy to have to move the danged things each and every time I need to get out a suitcase.     Not going to miss this particular aspect of apartment life,  I’ll tell you that much.

 

 

So,  the PLAN was,  we were going to be “outta here”  before I’d ever need to put the winter tires back on the car again.  Hence the pick-up program.   Talk about being gullible.

Meanwhile of course,  T.C.’s work visa has been extended until the end of the year.  Gah!

I couldn’t very well mention any of this tire pick-up business back in April when I got the tires changed over,  since too many things were up in the air.  

 

 

 

Mind you, our departure is still pretty much up in the air,  but that’s beside the point.  When I know,  you’ll know.  Well, you just might not know right away is all. 

Tell you what,  when the movers show up,  THEN you’ll know.  Merry Christmas.

 

Right,  so along towards the middle of October,  I’ll have to do the tire change thing all over again.  *sigh*   Not sure if I want to go back to the Tire Changing Dudes I had been using, which would involve a certain amount of having to sheepishly explain that I should have just said,  “no” to my wife (never wholly recommended) OR find a new place altogether,  such as the BMW dealer here in Wienerland.   I have very little desire to go to the dealership,  since I’m not overly keen on dealerships to begin with,  and the one time I did go there,  there was one particularly rude S.O.B.  whom I didn’t really want to ever have to deal with again.   Maybe that’s the real meaning of the “deal” in “dealership”?    So I just said,  “Ain’t going back”,  and I never have.  

I’m funny that way.

The last time the car had to be serviced,  they sent someone from the dealership to T.C.’s work to fetch it.   It seems they didn’t mind,  and I didn’t have to sit in some stupid waiting room for an entirely too long a time.   Probably one of the reasons why I’ve always preferred to either do my own oil changes,  or take it to someone who will at least let me have a look under the vehicle and give it the once over while the oil is being drained.   Not too many places where you can do that it seems,  and I prefer to avoid any place where I can’t keep an eye on whomever might be mucking around with my car.  

I’m funny that way too.

“Don’t let anyone under the hood”,  was a piece of advise given to me many years ago by a particular mechanic who is one of those guys who doesn’t mind if you hang around and watch him work.  Words to live by. 

It’s tough to find a good mechanic,  and I’m actually looking forward to dealing with that guy again whenever we find ourselves back on the other side of the pond.  Of course,  we’ll have to buy a car first.   That should be just heaps of fun.

 

Other than that minor diatribe,  it’s a fairly normal Friday here in Wienerland.  There’s the usual chores,  that kind of thing.  We have had a couple rain showers,  which makes it tricky for hanging stuff outside,  but that’s about as rough as it gets around here. 

Now if I can only keep from tying up the computer all night by copying another 50 GB sized folder of files,  life will be just peachy.  (rolling my eyes here)  I won’t be doing that again.  

 

Keep those blades sharp,  and thanks for coming ‘round.

 

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