Last night, I went out with some friends.  Had some drinks at the Highlander, then the party moved on to some bar which ended up being a gay bar having karaoke night (keep your cock garage shut, sis), and then onto some other place that had a dart board.  Alcohol + sharp pointies, always entertaining times.  However, I was responsible — I spaced out my drinks, making sure I’d be able to drive.  Had a total of 2 drinks over the last 4 hours we were out.  It was time to go home, everything is peachy.  I wasn’t sure exactly where I was at, but I have a GPS.  No problem.

At this point, it’s important to know that the suction cup on the GPS got screwed up some time back and is non-functional.  So I had set it on the dash, and while it was taking its sweet time finding where I was, I went ahead and started going toward the nearest highway.  I took a left turn, the GPS slides off the dash.  Reflexively, I lunge for it.  And I catch it!  Ninja skillz, yo.  Unfortunately, this reflexive action also caused me to hit a curb.  Hard.  Front tire goes flat immediately, I pull off into a parking lot.  Back tire is leaking air, too.

So both the passenger-side tires are flat, and the rims will need repair at the very least, and possibly replacement.  A call to Kirstie got me home all right (it’s good to have friends who will pick your sorry ass up at 3am), and this morning I called Geico, who set me up with a tow truck.  Of course, the VW dealership is closed on Sunday, so they towed me to a storage facility, and will get it to the dealership tomorrow.  But I have places to go, people to see, so I rented a car.

Called around, Budget had the best prices by a big margin.  Also, the man on the phone was, bar none, the fastest talker I have ever heard.  Just as fast as that Micro Machines guy, and I am not exaggerating.  I’m fairly sure he was Mexican, except speaking in English as fast as he would in Spanish.  For those of you who don’t know much about the Latino world, Mexicans speak really fast.  Even Spaniards have trouble understanding them.  They’re like New Yorkers on speed.

So I arrange for the cheapest car they have.  I get there, and they try to make me drive this:

PT Cruiser

My response was, “Ma’am, I must regretfully inform you that I have testicles, and will therefore be unable to operate that vehicle.  Do you perhaps have something in non-heterosexually-challenged?”  I proceeded to look out on the lot, point, and say, “That one.  I want that one.”

So for the next few days I am driving a Charger.  It’s not nearly as powerful as I’d hoped — my turbo 4-cylinder accelerates noticeably faster — and it’s an automatic, but I likes it regardless.

Hopefully the wheels can be replaced in short order, and maybe Geico will even pay for the rental (possibly not, since I arranged for it on my own, but they’ve been pretty damn helpful so far).  I swear my car’s wheels and tires are cursed.  After this is all said and done, I’ll probably have spent a total of about $3k on wheels and tires over the life of the car.