He doesn't suck. He doesn't bite the big one. He doesn't stink. He blows.
T-Hoe's rear passenger tire has been steadily losing air for about two months. Farmer H has been informed. He has promised to drive the short distance from garage to BARn and give that tire a refill. But he does so when he is darn good and ready. The #1 son topped off the tire one time. But mainly, the task falls to The Pony and I when we are in town.
T-Hoe is losing air at the rate of six pounds every two weeks. Oh, I could shorten that to three pounds a week, Or just under a pound every two days. Or a little less than half a pound of pressure per day. But the two week pattern is what matters.
I have a flat tire symbol on the dashboard of T-Hoe. When any tire is three pounds or more off from the next nearest tire's inflation level, that orange light pops up. So to get rid of it, The Pony and I stop at a convenience store on the way to summer school and inflate the tire a bit. Because it's convenient.
It's a team effort. I drive T-Hoe up to the building. The Pony jumps out and runs around to tell me if the stem is at least halfway up. No need bending myself over into a nosebleed. Then I park. I get out and grab the hose. The Pony pushes the button that starts the air flow, then goes to the driver's seat. He starts T-Hoe, and tells me when the dash gauge reads "33 lbs." I think the tires are supposed to be at 30 lbs. That's what the others are, anyway, give or take a pound. So this buys us two weeks of non-worry. T-Hoe slowly blows out 3 pounds of tire air the first week. Then another 3 pounds the second week. Then the flat tire symbol pops up to remind us to go through the whole rigamarole again.
You'd think the men at home with the air compressor and the tire gauge stick thingamabobbers would deal with this task, wouldn't you?
Or not. Knowing my menfolk as you do.