Damsel in Distress Day at the Wilton Getty

I am really starting think there are gremlins in my tires. As many of you know, I had to have two (the front ones) replaced in November, just after my Mini (which I still love, despite the tire problems) turned two and had only about 17.5K miles on him. But my troubles were far from over. Since then, I have been mysteriously losing pressure in different tires, though, of course, never at the same time -- and have become completely paranoid.

I inflate one and another loses pressure. It's like a friggin' game of Whac-a-Mole. It finally got to the point this week where I called Mini of Fairfield County and asked what was up with that?! Pete, poor, long-suffering Pete, patiently explained that tires lose pressure over time (duh -- but surely not every week?) and I should be checking mine once a month. Once a day is more like it.

So, after having my pleasant little conversation with Pete, who also lives in Wilton, and scheduling my annual service appointment (still under warranty!), I marched downstairs to the garage to check my tires and fill them with air using our plug-in air pump if necessary. Sure enough, three out of four tires required more air.

I got out the air pump, plugged it into that thing that used to be called "a lighter," turned on the ignition, and went to work. Only to find to my horror that I was LOSING air, not replacing it. I checked to make sure the pump was indeed plugged in and air was coming out (check and check) and tried again. Same thing. So I immediately stopped and did what any female, except for Tabitha, who can take apart and put back together a motorcycle and change flats on the A1 in whizzing traffic, would do: I emailed my husband and told him to do it.

So this morning we trundled downstairs to the garage together, he to pump, I to observe. As he went to apply the pump to the valve he noticed that the clamp was broken. Clearly gremlins, again. But at least I was off the hook. Sort of. I still needed air.

Minutes later, I had arrived at the Getty station, where another unfortunate victim of tire gremlins was trying to pump air into her Lexus, with apparently not much success, at least until the attendant helped her out. (Clearly these gremlins do not like women but are okay with men.) When they were done, I took the pump from the attendant and said a silent prayer.

I set the tire pressure on the pump. So far so good. Lovingly unscrewed the valve caps. Didn't lose one, so still feeling pretty good. And applied pressure. Well, two out of three isn't too bad, right? Yes, dear reader, once again, I was sucking wind, or air -- out of my tire. Trying not to panic, I sweetly called over to the attendant, who informed me I had to hold the pump to the valve until I heard three dings. Aaaah. "Guess it's damsel in distress day at Getty!" I chirped, after thanking him, to which he just grunted and turned away.

When I returned home, I proudly informed Kenny of my accomplishment. "Did you check the air with your gauge?" he asked. No, I replied, I didn't need to, I explained. The gauge on the pump said I was good to go. "You have to check your gauge," he repeated. "Can't trust those things." Great. I'm sure he's right, but it's cold out, and I'm hungry, and I just don't have the energy to go another round with the tire gremlins right now.

Please say a prayer that I make it safely to tae kwon do and back with Abby this evening. It's going to be a cold one, and these tire gremlins have a nasty sense of humor.