Sunday, July 29, 2012

My New Job Description

Just when I had resigned myself to the title of Chief Food Warmer-Upper and Sandwich Maker...Farmer H gave me a new task. Tire Inflater.

Funny how he has begun to delegate duties once performed by himself, then the #1 son, to ME. The Pony has no idea how fortunate he is to have been skipped as a link in this chain. No more will Farmer H drive my T-Hoe over to the BARn to his magical air compressor. Nor take it to the shop for repair. It has become MY responsibility. Of course, knowing Farmer H, it is highly possible that he expects me to wrap my lips around the tire valve and fill it with my own hot air.

Since early June, I have nagged Farmer H to see about T-Hoe's tire. It has a slow leak. Loses about four pounds of air per week. That is not normal. The Pony and I have been stopping at a convenience store to use their free air. Since The Pony has never been apprenticed in the proper mechanics of tire inflation, he hops out to tell me if the valve is in a convenient area, which is anywhere NOT on the bottom of the tire. He pushes the compressor button. I get out to unscrew the valve top and put in air. The Pony climbs into the driver's seat to tell me when the automatic inflation thingamajigger says the tire is at 34 pounds. Proper inflation is 32. But, what with the leak, and the other tires hovering at 30, I shoot for 34. You see, when there is a difference of four pounds between the next closest tire, a warning light comes on. So this buys me two weeks.

According to Farmer H, HE cannot take my tire to be checked out. I suppose because his weekends are filled with auctions and flea markets and goats and chickens and cabins and BARns. In addition, he says that there's really nothing anybody can do. That with such a slow leak, it will be next to impossible to find and fix. I cry POPPYCOCK! Surely that is a job that tire shops are used to performing. Just like a chef is well-versed in warming up food in a microwave, or heating it in an oven. Farmer H acts like driving around on a tire that loses four pounds of air per week is perfectly normal. All the rage. Everybody's doing it! Who would ever expect a paid tire professional to find out the root of the problem and fix it?

I need to tell Farmer H about all the people who are taking a long walk on a short pier. It's all the rage, you know.


Sioux said...

And standing too close to the wood chipper, teetering, with a severe case of vertigo--that's all the rage, too.

knancy said...

Go buy a new tire and have it put on your vehicle. When Hick gets his weekly allowance, deduct that cost. He is not holding up his part of the bargain of this partnership. Or just go on strike like I used to do. No cleaning, no cooking, etc. gonna eat chocolates and watch TV. Go away and leave me alone....I have to work tomorrow.

Hillbilly Mom said...

I wonder if a Fargo chill just passed through Farmer H.

I'm surprised he doesn't take one of his odd, assorted tires and put it on T-Hoe for free, then ask me to reimburse him for what he spent getting it repaired. I must remain ever vigilant.