So the wheel fell off my van.

I should have expected it. The tapping noise had long since stopped by itself. That meant that whatever was loose had become permanently lodged somewhere or just plain fell off. That should have been the first warning sign.

I can only imagine that the, “Safety Inspection,” administered two weeks ago at a garage that will remain unnamed, was done by someone with as much auto knowledge as me.

Mechanic 1: “Does it have gas?”
Mechanic 2: “Yup.”
Mechanic 1: “Did you check the oil?”
Mechanic 2: “Yup.”
Mechanic 1: “Does it need more?”
Mechanic 2: “Can’t tell.”
Mechanic 1: “Is there a map in the glove compartment?”
Mechanic 2: “Two.”
Mechanic 1: “Alright, it passes road inspection. NEXT!”

When it happened I didn’t even have to get out of the van to know what it was. It wasn’t so much that I knew there was going to be a problem with the tire; it was more because someone, at some point, said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if the tire just fell off.” And because my life is just one big running joke anyway, it was inevitable that this, “Funny,” thing would happen. You could set your watch by the strange shit that happens to me.

Anyway, I was driving around, looking for a Barnes & Noble. Next thing I know the van jerks forward and then comes to a grinding halt. Like I said, I knew what had happened right away. All I could do was turn on my emergency blinkers and get out. Fortunately I was on a side street and not on a main highway.

Of the two or three things that held a wheel to a car, only one was still intact, so the wheel was actually still attached to the car in a dangling-eyeball kind of way. Also brake fluid was leaking out. Well, it could have been brake fluid; for all I know it was marmalade.

After putting up one of those orange triangle things about 100 feet back from the car I ran to a payphone in a nearby mall and called USAA. After navigating the USAA touch tone phone system I was promptly put on hold. I’m sure I was on hold for much less time than I thought, but for the duration I was lightly banging my head against the wall. This no doubt disturbed the shoppers at the mall.

I arranged for the tow and went back outside to tell the rich dumbfucks that orange triangle and emergency blinkers meant go AROUND the car, not stop behind it and honk.

So, the car’s in the shop till at least Monday afternoon. Since I’m probably switching jobs soon I still can’t afford a new car, so I just keep paying to get the van repaired. One of these days the mechanics may just do something right.