Back a couple of months ago when I cut off my internet, I moved all the games I played on my Kindle to my phone -- all but one, that is, because I don't like the way that game is formatted on my phone. For some reason, when I did that, I also re-installed both Pokémon Go and Jurassic World Alive.
Do you know when you don't play Pokémon Go for like 4 years, they delete your game and you have to start all over? Apparently, they do, or else I was doing something wrong. My Jurassic World Alive game was just as I had left it, but I never did find my old Pokémon Go game.
No matter. The whole point was to try to encourage me to get out and walk more. However, I very quickly remembered why I had quit playing to begin with. Here, let me show you.
This is my street on Pokémon Go.
By contrast, here is my street on Jurassic World Alive.
To find any Pokestops, or really, any Pokémon at all, I have to get into my car and drive all the way into town. There are lots of Pokestops down on or near the square, but not many anywhere else, and certainly not any outside city limits-- at least, not that I've found. That kind of puts a damper on things.
Since I had to go into town this afternoon anyway to run my payday errands, I thought I'd just swing by the town square and hit a few Poke stops along the way. I got two or three down by the square, then went to turn west onto South street (for you local folks) to head to the post office to hit the Pokestop there. That's when the trouble started.
There was someone in the eastbound lane at that 4-way stop where I needed to turn, and I'm always just a bit paranoid about swinging too wide and hitting someone when I do that, so I frequently overcompensate and cut the corner a bit too narrow. Sometimes, I hit the curb when I do this. It usually isn't a big deal.
Today, it was.
I could tell by the noise I heard as soon as I hit that curb that I had really messed up. I kept going, thinking that if I could make it to that little gas station (on the corner of South and MLK, for you local folks), I could maybe air up my tire enough to make it to Walmart for a repair. I hadn't even gone maybe 50 yards, and I knew by the sound my wheel was making I wasn't going to make it even that far.
Not wanting to mess my rims up, I pulled off onto a side street (right by the Methodist church, for you local folks) and got out my can of Fix-A-Flat. I hooked it up, pushed the button, and...nothing. Oh, the stuff was going into the tire, but the tire wasn't inflating at all. Man, I must have really messed that tire up.
I do have an air pump that I keep in my car, but it requires an outlet to work. Fat lot of good that did me sitting there on the side of the road. I was standing there thinking maybe I could pull into the Methodist church and ask if I could use one of their outlets, when I heard someone call my name: "Becky?"
It was one of the other brazers from work. She'd seen me and stopped to see what was wrong. I'm so glad she did, because she had an air pump that you can plug into your cigarette lighter. We got that out and hooked it up to my tire, turned it on....and nothing. Man, I must have really messed that tire up.
I told my coworker, "It's no good. I'm going to have to put the spare on."
I got the spare out, and the jack, and the little lug wrenchy thing out and got to work. As I was jacking up the car, I told her, "This is the first time in my life I've ever had to change a tire since I was 15 and my dad was teaching me how. He said I'd have to know how to change a tire before I could get my driver's license, but every other time I've had a flat, someone has stopped and changed it for me." Not this time. This time, I did it myself. Yes, I'm kind of proud of that.
It didn't take long for me to get the spare on, and my coworker stayed with me the whole time. Then we had to get her pump back out and air up my spare, because it was flat, too. I thanked her profusely for stopping, because I'm not sure what I would have done if she hadn't. She picked up my flat tire to put it into the trunk and said, "Here's where it's damaged. I can see that stuff you put into it bubbling out." I looked and there was about a 3 inch long split in the sidewall. I'd really messed that tire up.
"I don't think they'll even be able to fix that," I said. "I'll just have to buy a new tire." And that's exactly what I did.
I now have a two brand new tires -- having just bought one about 3 months ago. Heh, as I was checking in at the automotive counter, I noticed I was leaving big puddles of sweat there on the counter, and had to apologize to the clerk. "I'm sorry. I'm sweating all over your counter. Yeah, I would pick the hottest day of the year to blow out my tire!" She got a good chuckle out of that.
The good news is, they gave me such a huge discount because of the tread depth on my old tire, I practically got the new tire for half price. And I bought one of the same kind of pumps my coworker has, the kind you can plug into a cigarette lighter. I won't be caught out like that again, sitting on the side of the road with an air pump I can't even use.
Then I consoled myself with some new buttons.
That was my adventure for today. I was going to mow this evening, but I think I'll save that for tomorrow. Tonight, I'll just rehydrate, because I'm all in.
Oh, and thanks, Dad, for making sure I knew how to change a tire.
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