A New Segment - RAMD

I may have been ripped off. I am not sure, because I will not compare prices for fear of that sickly feeling festering in my stomach. But I have strong suspicions. This segment of "Reasons Anna Misses Daddy (RAMD)" can be ultimately traced to the annoying protrusion of a street curb. Every time I leave my apartment complex and turn right, I have to take extreme measures to avoid said curb, causing potential danger should there be oncoming traffic. After an intense tradeoff analysis, I determined it best to pretend both the curb and the massive bump I felt while making the turn were nonexistent. One con not factored in the analysis - turning in this manner apparently wears the tread*, inevitably leading to a flat tire. I may have reconsidered had I known this, but as it is, I took that turn especially hard Wednesday morning, at which point Maleek's** hind leg crumpled.

After apologizing profusely to Maleek and promising I would begin heeding his moans and groans, I took the vehicle to Sears Auto, recommended by a friend. I will digress for a moment to insert a sports analogy. Every athlete has encountered the ultimate competitive challenge, a proverbial Goliath. For whatever reason, be it the myth of unconquerable strength, confident demeanor of the opposition, or past encounters resulting in defeat, you approach the field battling discouragement. There are two paths the athlete can take:

1) Rise above the mentality that proclaims the challenge too great, the disadvantages insurmountable, and hold your head high as you compete, embracing the results with pride, whether in victory or defeat.

2) Curl up in the fetal position.

I am ashamed to say I did not even consider Path One and walked into the Auto Center already defeated. I plea that I was neither in the physical, mental, nor emotional state to defeat such a foe.

First - Physical. Clearly, a short blonde with soft features and petite build will always lose to a burly salesman on paper. On a typical day, I would be able to muster a valiant fight and at the very least feign understanding of basic mechanical terminology. However, I had just finished a long run; I was withered, famished, and a bit hazy.

Second - Mental state. Thoughts of sandwiches, ice cream, and a hot shower consumed my mind. Any measure taken to hasten my communion with these three was well worth the price.

And third - Emotional state. I had an exceptionally strong yearning to be in Ohio due to the week's events, only intensified by the nostalgic and sentimental tunes chosen by the country radio station. Needless to say, when the salesman told me he also grew up in small town Ohio and, "the Blue Ridge Mountains are nice and the skies are blue, but something about crossing the river just makes you feel home," I nearly broke down at the counter. At this point, all my defenses were down. He suggested an appropriate set of tires and I accepted the offer without question - after all, he is from Ohio and would not lead me astray. When I paid for the repair two hours later than projected, I gave him a riveting review and rolled away.

Here I am, at the end of my segment, tires purchased and Maleek healed, and I think, what message do I want to leave with the reader, other than I wish I had a travel-size dad by my side in such situations? To begin, I will avoid looking at my credit card statement for the next month and will pretend there is a noticeable difference between the old and new tires.

More important, though, is this: at a point when I felt alone in my longing for the humble roots of Ohio, someone was sent to sympathize. It was amazing how comforted I felt following a five minute conversation about high school football and proper punishment for any Ohio traitor who chooses to attend Michigan. Even if he did sell me tires that were only beneficial when navigating the Siberian tundra, I do not mind. Although I will never see him again, I had found a kindred spirit when I needed one most. That was worth the trip.

*What is tread?
**If you do not know who Maleek is, you need to read my blog more.

... For those of you who did not think I was capable of incorporating a near emotional breakdown with a trip to the mechanic, I am.