After working at FS taking care of infants for 6-ish years, the only definition of a "blowout" was the one that meant the baby had pooped and the diaper had failed. Typically, poop had gone out the sides of the diaper, up the front of the diaper, up the back of the diaper, or in a combination of directions. Often following a blowout, strong latex gloves were donned and the baby was stripped down and given a bath immediately. Any clothing went into a bio-hazard bag that was scented like baby powder for the poor parents to deal with at home.
I digress.
Last night, I learned a second definition of "blowout." This time, it was with my rear, passenger side tire.
It was Tuesday, June 30th and I was in the mood to shop. Knowing that my friend Kendra loves to shop at Von Maur, I devised a plan to drive into Bloomington after work so we could go to a scrapbook store I love, eat at Logans and shop at Lame Giant and Von Maur. We left Champaign at 5:30pm for what we thought would be an exciting, yet uneventful trip.
Approximately 30 minutes into our trip as we were cruising I-74 and chatting up a storm, I heard a "POP." Then loud, horrible noises coming from the back, right side of the car.
Kendra: "Did you run over something?"
Me: "I think its my tire."
Noises become louder as I pull over to the shoulder....
Me: "Its definitely the tire!"
Ugh....we exit the car and survey the damage.
Status: tire is completely F-L-A-T!
Me: "Hmmm....okay....gonna have to change the tire."
Kendra: "Seriously? I don't know how to change a tire. For real. I don't know how."
Me: "I can change it. I know how."
I pop the trunk and get out the jack, the spare and the wrench. I try to get the lug nuts off, but they were too tight. How annoying. I call my dad and give him my location and he begins what will be at least a 20 minute drive from Bellflower to I-74 Westbound...mile marker 165-ish.
I cannot just stand there and wait for my dad to come without giving the lug nuts a good try, so despite wearing a skirt, I attempt to get the lug nuts off.
Within 15 minutes, I had removed 3 and Kendra had removed 1. (Not too shabby for never changing a tire before...)
The last lug nut wouldn't budge. At least when my dad would have arrived, there was only one last lug nut to take off. We stand around (on the shoulder) and talk some more.
After 20 minutes of EVERY vehicle flying past us, one pulled over and began to back up along the shoulder to help us!
BIG D 151 (his license plate) Hooray! A "good Samaritan!"
Kendra: "We have someone coming to help us."
Me: "Good. I cannot believe we've been here for this long and this is the first person to come and help us."
Kendra: "Have you ever seen that movie where the girl gets a flat tire and a guy comes along to help her, but then he rapes and kills her instead?"
Me: "Uh.....no, I haven't seen that movie, but thank you for bringing it up now..."
Big D walks up to us and offers to help. He gets the last lug nut off in just a few seconds. Whoo hoo! Then I jacked up the car and he hit the tire until it came off. As we were putting the spare on, my dad pulled up.
Big D and my dad discuss the spare and if it is on correctly. Then Big D puts the flat tire in the trunk. My dad tightens up the lug nuts and Big D wishes us a safe journey and heads home.
As for Kendra and I, we checked the book and it said you can drive on the spare up to 3,000 miles. Thank you Toyota. My dad followed us to the next town and thought the tire looked okay.
Did we turn around and return safely to Champaign?
Hell no! We went into Bloomington as planned, had a great dinner and a very successful shopping trip.
As for the car, she got two new front tires and will get two new rear tires in the near future.
Here is a photo of the blowout....I could stick my thumb through one of the holes...crazy!
Thanks BIG D and Dad! =)
