It’s raining cats and dogs in Ireland. Apparently more people have punctures in the rain so that’s good for my friends in Fast Fit Tyres whom I visited this morning after joining the ranks of the publicly let-down on the motorway last night. Half an hour in the dark on the hard shoulder waiting for Breakdown Assistance to come and change the wheel for me. And, during that half hour, the battery on my mobile (that’s cell phone to you) died, so I couldn’t even tweet. Perhaps just as well. I had texted significant other to let him know my predicament and his advice was “Have a go at changing it yourself. It’s not hard to do.”
Yeah. Not hard – in the dark – on the motorway – in the rain – at rush hour with cars flashing by me at 120kph. Hmph.
Anyway, the Knights of the Road came to my assistance and all was well. I digress here for a moment to send a cyber hug to the now retired Tommy who sold me this particular car. Tommy earns the hug cos when I lifted that thing in the boot, lo and behold, there was brand new, fully inflated, proper wheel with tyre just waiting. Good news indeed – and something of a surprise – cos my last car, same brand, same model, higher spec, had one of those temporary spares – you know the ones you have drive slowly on and that only really let you limp to wherever you’re going for your new tyre or repair.
I never, ever repair tyres – always replace. Safety is more important than savings when you drive.
Now regarding the selection and purchase of the tyres. Let me explain first that about four months ago, I noticed some damage to one tyre on the front of the car so I replaced both front tyres with new Pirellis. Last night’s little escapade convinced me to change the rear two today. To demonstrate my complete car-savviness when ordering my new tyres, I insisted on Pirelli and instructed the garage to move the front wheels to the back on the basis that the front tyres wear out more quickly (I think I once heard someone say that and it seemed like the kind of thing a knowledgable bloke would want done). They didn’t blink at the request. I think got away with it.
Instructions delivered competently, I left them to it and went off for breakfast. Back half an hour later and the job was done. I walked knowledgably around the car. I kicked the tyres. You’re supposed to do that, you know. I went into the office, examined the documentation carefully, and handed over €220.
That’s four new Pirellis in the space of four months and a cost of €440. Do you think that qualifies me for November on the Pirelli Menopause Calendar? Care to join me ladies?
PS … Just between you and me, I have absolutely no idea if the front wheels are now the back wheels. Still, those guys in the garage wouldn’t have suspected that … or would they?
