Today I got up early, walked & medicated Daisy and set her up in her crate, and headed down to USC to check out the Transmedia S/Telling the Story conference.
I knew I wouldn't be able to stay all day - Will leaves the house at 7am and doesn't get back until 8pm most days - so I'd need to be back mid-afternoon to walk and care for Daisy.
A few minutes after I turned onto Jefferson I heard the WHOOMP!
Then the tire warning light went off.
I drive a Mini, which has run-flat tires. But they're not magic. I pulled over to assess the damage and realized that the tire was deflating more quickly than normal. I could try to make it home in the thick of traffic and hope that I didn't damage the wheel.
Or I could call AAA, get towed to the tire place. My tires were nearly bald - they're the ones that came with the car when I bought it. Seven years ago.
I called AAA, called Just Tires, and then hopped on Twitter while I waited.
I was deluged with Tweets asking me if I needed anything. And then came the DMs, which alerted me to the fact that I was doing this all WRONG.
Why didn't I just change the tire myself? Why didn't I try to drive home? Why did I think I needed new tires? Why was I making fun of the guys in the rape van who offered me a backup plan in case Will and I didn't work out? Why didn't I just walk home?
I understand any time you put something on the Internet, people are going to comment. But I believe it's time to explain my Internet Fuck-Off Rule.
If I have asked or solicited advice, then I am obligated to politely listen to said advice, even if I don't agree with it or plan on taking it.
If I have not asked for or solicited advice, I am free to tell you to Fuck Off when advice is offered.
And I admit I was wrong about the rape van comments. It turns out the area I broke down in hasn't had a reported rape in seven days!
Just a whole bunch of violent robberies. (From LAPD Crime Maps.)
