Just a day

This morning I was listening to one of the live shows on Pride 48, and they mentioned something about checking a car and I suddenly remembered: My car needed a Warrant of Fitness. In fact, it expired on Saturday.

So, I set out to VTNZ for my warrant. Not surprisingly, it was decked out for the Rugby World Cup (pictured at left). I was early enough that there wasn’t anyone in front of me, so the wait was short. In fact, I barely had enough time to post that photo to Twitter when my car was done.

Or, not so done.

They told me that my right rear tyre had two nails in it, and it was completely flat. They pumped it up, but I needed to get it fixed, and so, it failed its Warrant of Fitness. Not to worry! Just get the tyre fixed, bring back the receipt that day, and they’d pass the car.

As luck would have it, the Firestone outlet near the VTNZ was open on Sunday, so I drove over there. $45 to fix the tyre, they said. “Do it,” I said. The photo below right is of my car waiting for its tyre to rejoin it.

Tyre fixed, I headed back the VTNZ, got my Warrant (or WOF, as we call it), and was on my way home. I thought to myself that I must’ve gotten the nails on the kind of alley I took to get to VTNZ, because it was fine when I left the house. And then I thought, “I wonder if tyre people spread nails there to get the people going for a WOF?” I laughed at the joke.

I got home and told Nigel, who wondered if the tyre people had spread the nails on purpose. Later that evening, my sister-in-law and our niece came round for dinner and I told them the tale of my day and car. My sister-in-law wondered if the tyre people had spread the nails on purpose.

For the record, none of us seriously thinks that’s what happened; the area I drove through is quasi-industrial, and I could have passed through a construction area where someone had carelessly left nails lying around.

Or, maybe someone had spread the nails on purpose.

And this was a big, and unexpectedly expensive, part of my day.