With the cooler weather lately, T-Hoe's tires are not fully inflated. The warning light comes on, telling me to check my tires. They should have 35 pounds per square inch, also called PSI. According to my three working sensors, two had 27 psi, and one had 28 psi. The other is a mystery, since the sensor has not worked for five or more years, and it doesn't seem to be a priority for Hick to get it fixed.
Anyhoo... a week ago, I told Hick that T-Hoe's tires needed air. And that the last time I tried to do it myself at the FREE AIR hose at the Gas Station Chicken Store, I slammed the door on my leg, making an oozing hole in the calf that took months to heal. Hick has an air compressor over in the BARn. He is able to air up the tires without driving to town. Once he decides that it's a worthwhile chore.
First of all, let the record show that I fully appreciate Hick's efforts to keep me above ground, except on the days he's actively trying to kill me. However... Hick sometimes does not meet the minimal standards that I require from his efforts.
Here. Allow me to help your lift your chin from your knees, and waft this smelling salt under your proboscis. Lie back on this chaise lounge, to regain your composure.
I know you are shocked at the concept of Val being displeased with Hick's actions!
After a week, with several naggings reminders, Hick took T-Hoe over to the BARn for tire inflation. When he came back to the house, he walked in the kitchen door and dropped my keyring on the table. RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY LOTTERY SCRATCHINGS!
"Hey! You just made a mess. You put my keys in my scratchings!"
"I don't know what you're doing! I don't know what's there where I put them!"
Such an unobservant fellow! Hick knows I sit at the kitchen table scratching when he comes home every evening!
Anyhoo... Hick put air in T-Hoe's tires. That's the good thing.
"Did you put 35 in all of them?"
"According to my tire gauge, yes."
Well. You know what happened, right? When I drove T-Hoe to town the next day, I checked the dashboard to see the inflation. Which should have been 35 in each tire. One was 36, one was 37, and one was 39. The other one is still a mystery.
To be fair, Hick had cataract surgery a couple months ago. So his eyes are not reading to the nth degree. Perhaps he could not see the tire gauge very well. Good thing Hick was not reporting my temperature to a physician, from a mercury thermometer! I'd either be a corpse, or ready to spontaneously combust!
Anyhoo... I suppose it's better to have a couple extra pounds of air in T-Hoe's tires, rather than eight less than recommended. Even though it makes for a very bumpy ride on Hick and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill.
My compressor allows you to set the required psi and stops when it is reached. Maybe a Christmas present?
ReplyDeleteMaybe. I will have to fake being interested, and ask some questions. The current compressor was a trade for something I don't remember, to our across-the-road neighbor.
DeleteDon't be blaming the cataract surgery, we all know Hick just guesses things like this.
ReplyDeleteI'm pretty sure that's the case. But since Hick did something for me that I didn't want to do myself, I was trying to give him an excuse.
DeleteI am told that all tires need the exact same pressure. The reasons escape me. Some days, I just want to know the way to do a thing, not why. Tommy did that very thing to my tires. I suggested he get back out there and do it correctly. Maybe he did and maybe he did not.
ReplyDeleteTires probably need the same pressure so they wear evenly. Since T-Hoe still has three working tire sensors, I know that the tires are holding different amounts of air. Otherwise, I would not have gone out and checked them with my handheld tire gauge which I seem to have lost, but just taken Hick's word for it.
DeleteWe all know I don't do things like airing up my tires, checking the oil or even putting fuel in my car. That falls under the very few list of chores HeWho is responsible for. I just came in from my She Shed for a sandwich and a break, HeWho called out a request of what he wanted ...... did I get it for him? No, I told him to rise up from his recliner and get himself whatever he wanted.
ReplyDeleteI have aired my own tires in the past, and I put in fuel every week. I used to check the oil before I had Hick. Now I just look at the dashboard for the percent of oil life left. Which doesn't tell me if it's low. Hick figures it is every so often, and adds some oil. Spilling a little, which smells like burning tires when I start driving.
DeleteI hope HeWho doesn't starve to death before he figures out how to make himself lunch. Our neighbor, Copper Jack's human daddy, told Hick one time that he almost starved to death, waiting for his wife to get home from work and make him a can of soup.