Flat Tire Fixer

Michelle slit my throat while I was sleeping last night and now I am blogging from the afterlife.

Actually, things are going fine. We had lunch every day this week and we’re going out Friday.

But on to more important news: Despite my seeming closure on my quest to win over Elevator Girl, I continue to talk to strangers. In fact, I had a nice talk with the guy who pulled a nail out of my flat tire yesterday.

It’s actually pretty cool how they pull the nail out and put some kind of black tar stick in there instead. Then, he spits on it to see if there’s any air escaping.

I asked him, “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

He said, “Spit?”

I laughed and he said his father taught him how to fix cars when he was just a boy in Mexico. He moved to L.A. thirty years ago, is a U.S. citizen, has two boys in college, and works two jobs to pay for it.

Just in case you thought you worked hard.