Continuing the saga of my own personal guffaws, here's another tragicomedy that Shakespeare himself could not have written. A few weeks back, Christine's car was making a grinding noise, so I jumped to the obvious conclusion and planned to replace the brake pads. When I pulled the tires off, the old pads still looked great. So I replaced the pads anyway, buttoned up the car, and figured that if the noise came back, I'd deal with it then. And then we went to the NICU. Since we've been at the RMH, the sound continued to worsen. One of my tasks to do while at home for the past 36 hours was to try to figure out where that sound was coming from, and what to do about it. I had a short window of time to work in, so the pressure was on.
This morning, I removed the left, front tire to get a better look, as I'm pretty sure it's probably a bearing issue. Somehow, during the entire process, I managed to break not one, but two lug nut studs. Seriously, how did that happen? I'm too old to be snapping 3/8" bolts with my own two hands! I'm left to assume that these lug nut studs were already compromised, and we are probably fortunate they didn't fall apart on the road. That's what I'm telling the wife anyway.
Any other week, this would have been a minor inconvenience. But this week it's a real headache. I have to get the car into the shop tomorrow, probably for a few days. I'll need to rent a car for the time being so I can get to work and Christine can get back to the hospital. A dung beetle could not have rolled a nicer turd-ball than this. Honestly, I cannot help but laugh.
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