Like water through my hands, You'd give him any ending, But if he's all you say, Would he fly from heaven to this world again?

Good for blogging: "Mike, I'm freaking out." PG's fading love interest. The resignation of the company pessimist. Self-inflicted Handicaps. Elliott Smith and the Big Nothing.

On Monday I went with Biotech girl and TN girl to the FHE service project. Apparently, whenever "men" organize the proect, there are never enough things to do and people spend much time standing around. We stuck around anyway and had a good time. Back at their place, I jump in my truck and head home.

CLUNCK, GRIND, GRIND, CLUNK. Something is wrong...emergency brake is off...transmission works fine...no dead bodies clinging to the undercarriage...I pull over and find that my rear tire is completely flat. "No problem." Oh yeah, my jack is broken. I walk back to the girls' place and borrow a crappy jack. Oh yeah, I've never used the spare on this thing. Oh yeah, I don't even know how to get the spare OFF the harness. "Damn..."

It's now 10:00pm; then rear axle is off the ground, the lug nuts are off, and the spare is ready to go. Something else is wrong. Despite all the kicking and banging I could muster, the wheel won't budge. It's now 10:30, and I've still had no luck. Concluding that I'm retarded, I abandon ship and head home. TN girl was kind enough to take me home.

The following day, after consulting with my father, my car savy co-workers, and the dealership, I decide I'm not so stupid afterall. Unfortunately, the problem is not fixed, and I have 8 miles to bike uphill in 85 degree weather.

I return to the scene of the crime with a mallet and ballpeen hammer. I bang and kick and twist and turn for an hour straight. Still no luck. In a last ditch attempt, I pump up my tire with a bicycle pump, locate the hole, and patch it with a $5 autozone special.

Problem solved. Solution time: 10 minutes. Promblem solving time: 4 hours.

This experience lends a few thoughts:

2. Strange. I was hot, exhausted, frustrated, failing with everything. But I'm not angry. Maybe I'm not like my father after all.

3. Man, what a piece of work I am. I've spent the last 15 years of my life learning to fix crap. Give me a $30,000 gas chromatograph that hasn't been used in six years, and I'll have it up and running by the end of the day. Give me a $60 busted tire and a little rust from MY OWN car, and I'm completely SOL. The irony is lovely.

4. For a change, I DID do things correctly, yet the "correct" response was the wrong one. The solutions was indeed simple. It just took time to find.

5. Dang. My hand hurts. Stupid soft, spongey body of mine.

Fly From Heaven - Toad the Wet Sprocket