Okay, ladies: no matter what the circumstances are, guys are going to stare at any woman checking her tires. No matter what you’re wearing, no matter what you look like, no matter how young or old you are, no matter how hard you try to bend over in a way that won't draw too much attention to your ass and/or breasts – they're gonna stare. I'm no guy, so I can't tell you what they're thinking, but I'll go out on a limb here and say that, 'Holy shit! It's a woman checking her tires!" is at least part of it. There's no way to just 'blend in.' You will be noticed.
That being said...
I pulled over at a gas station. Checked all four tires. Popped my two quarters into the machine. Did my best minimize 'the view,' and started adding air to the front right tire. Checked the tire pressure again. No change. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. Hmmm. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. What the hell? I know I had the nozzle correctly seated in the valve. I know I was squeezing the right lever (ya know, the only lever). I know how use a tire pressure gauge. THIS IS NOT A COMPLICATED PROCESS! I inspected my gauge. There was bit of grease on the readout, which could’ve been the reason why the stupid thing kept stopping at 26 psi. Okay... so I wiped that onto my shirt and tried again. Damn! As I was checking to see if the air coming out of the pump had much force behind it - looking quite perplexed as I sprayed air at my other hand - I looked up and saw a gentleman watching me while he was filling his tank.
Great. Just the image I was going for. A dumb blonde who can’t figure out how to work the air "thingie."
Now I’m pissed. Determined to at least appear to have a few neurons firing in my brain, I added more air. Then I released a lot, knowing full well that by now I had overinflated the damn thing. Then proceeded to fiddle around. Moved to the rear tire. Fiddled around some more. Once the pump shut off, I coolly hung the hose up and walked back to my car. Yep. I properly inflated all four tires. You just didn’t see me do the driver's side cuz, uh, I did that before you pulled up. Yeah. Bye now.
I know it wasn’t me. I know it was that stupid gauge. It had to have been! I drove over to Advance Auto to replace the treasonous bitch. Why is it that whenever you go into Advance, all the clerks are busy helping customers? WTF? I just need a tire pressure gauge. Stop laughing. While I might not know my way around the rows of car parts, I do know that they keep this kind of thing out in plain sight near the front, and I’m pretty sure I can determining the right one for the make, model, and year of my car. Der. My point is that I had to wait forever for someone to ring up my costly purchase. [Jesco? Anyone? Anyone???]
And by the way... gals... don’t buy one with a digital readout, or one that talks to you, or has any other unnecessary feature that involves a battery. The battery will die before the next time you remember to pull it out of the glove box again. And if it looks like metal, but feels like plastic – go up a level. Go ahead. Splurge.
So I get back in my car, wondering how far I need to drive to the next air pump in order to avoid my previous witnesses... and it started to rain.
I give up.
You may have won this round - but I swear I’m gonna get you back tomorrow, you rubber rolling bastards! When I’m through with you *shakes fist* you’re gonna be so properly full of air you won’t know what hit ya!
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