Fitting attire for when the rubber hits the road

Well I found out what was making my car shake it, shake it, shake it like a polaroid picture… I promise never to intentionally put the words to a Black Eyed Peas song in my blog ever again.

Anyway, getting back on track, let’s get this story started in here… oops I did it again. Oh no. Now I’ve quoted Black Eyed Peas twice and Britney once. I’m not sure I can go any lower. Although I haven’t yet stooped to mentioning nudie runs. Although I guess now I have. Bugger.

And to think I took two minutes coming up with those Black Eyed Peas jokes. That’s time I’ll never ever get back. But again, I digress. Tonight was a significant milestone in my development as a man. Actually there were two milestones today. And a kilometre sign. Let’s drag this blog into the metric era. Firstly, in a moment of post State of Origin apathy I realised that my desire to rub in such a crushing one-point victory just wasn’t there. I realised in that instant that at some point in the last few months or years I’d discovered that there was more to life than sport. Once again I blame girls for this – everything that goes wrong in my (or anyone else’s) life is directly attributable to members of the opposite sex.

The second kilometre sign moment came tonight when I discovered what was wrong with my car. I was travelling down a road (not the road less travelled, or the road to nowhere, or one of the roads that a man must walk down before you can call him a man… actually maybe it was one of those – that’s the whole point) at a reasonable pace (and by reasonable I mean the speed limit) when my car made a funny clunk sound and started bouncing rather than shaking. “Ahh,” I thought to myself, “I’ve just blown a tyre/tire/tier/rubber wheel thing/the round thing on the bottom of my car. So I pulled over and examined the damage. I’m quite impressed. It was pretty blown. I managed to pull over in the vicinity of a streetlight but just to be sure I responsibly put my hazard lights on. Unfortunately the crevice thing that my spare tyre sits in is under a plank of wood. The plank of wood obscures the light in the boot when it is raised so it took me a while to unscrew the spare tyre and find all the pieces of the jack, but once I got there it was fine.

At this point I called Dad – just to make sure that I wasn’t going to break/brake my car by doing anything stupid. It turns out my theories were correct. Changing a tyre is as easy as umm, doing something similar. I was back on the road in no time and suitably covered in a combination of grease, dirt and some other unidentified pollutant.

I should point out that in my moment of distress – when I thought “ohh crap I’m doing 80 and my tyre just blew” (editors note: I probably actually said something slightly different out loud but the meaning is essentially the same, and this is slightly more appropriate) I was actually following directly behind one of the lovely girls from church – who it turns out saw me pull over and just kept driving. What a shame – I missed out on such a great opportunity to literally flex my manliness muscles – it’s probably not a bad thing that she kept going. She tells me she’s an expert tyre changer and has managed to complete the process in under 15 minutes. I think I managed in a respectable 25ish – a good portion of that was spent ferreting around in the boot of my car.

So now I’ve changed a tyre. I’m all manly and stuff. Now when I sing in the car (in my extra deep voice) i don’t do that funny wavering sound that you make when you’re going over a cattle grid in a car and you go “ERR-RR-RRR-RR”…you get the point. If you don’t maybe you should find a cattle grid and try it. It’s kind of like that Red Indian (Native American) warcry you make when you bounce your hand up and down on your mouth while going “OOO-WAA-WAA-WAA”… or maybe that’s just me.


CB says:

Yeah I saw Robyn change a tyre. She was pretty speedy. Funny that she didn’t stop though. Didn’t want to ruin your tyre changing moment I guess…

Fortunate that it was only the tyre that busted… that scary shaking seemed like threats from your car that it was going to explode…

which would have been messy.

Nathan says:

Here’s a second post just to move the comments into the plural for Caitie’s benefit.

1 comments was hurting her OCD.

Pedants make the world go round.

CB says:

Well, you know, 1 comment, 2 or more comments… it’s plural. What is happening to the English language? Back when I was an English student…

Oh I believe that’s already been discussed here. End of discussion. In fact, it wasn’t a discussion cause it was just me talking. Over and out.

Nathan says:

and yes… if my car had exploded that would have been messy. There’d have been bits of purple scrap metal everywhere.

It would have been like mardi gras except not part of someone’s costume.

I’ll edit that comment when I think of a similie that is actually funny. (and with one fell swoop (note not one foul swoop or fowl swoop – it’s Shakespearean… so cultured… so refined) I make this comment relevant to CB’s comments about being an english student)

daniel says:

It’s Outkast not the Black Eyed Peas.

Music Nazi’s are out in force again this morning!

Nathan says:

I stand corrected. The second one was Black Eyed Peas though

Nathan says:

I’d also like to point out that I think that’s the cleverest title ever.

It even beats the one I’m sending out on a press release today:

“ATEC’s message for mobile travellers”

What a sad life I lead.

mip says:


I was about to compliment you on the title, but I see someone already did so.

Ah well.

miriam says:


Have you done a nudie in a shopping trolley through Grafton???

mip says:

I think it’s another kilometre sign when your child says “I love God”, not necessarily of any personal achievement, just a notable moment.

This happened the other day when my 2 1/2 yo daughter, Jessie, was talking to my wife the other day. However, the conversation then took an unexpected turn:

Naomi: “That’s great Jessie, you know that God loves you to.”
Jessie: “I know, cause I’m a girl.”

Nathan says:


That’s a random question.

No I haven’t. I did once witness such an event… and coincidently happened to find a pile of clothes on the ground. Being the dutiful, environmentally concerned citizen that I am I took them in and gave them a good home.

miriam says:

I think that’s called stealing, or aiding and abetting.

mad says:

isn’t it sad when life gets so tough you have to start convincing people to strip so you can still their clothes…you poor thing. I will send a cheque in the mail.

Scott says:

Ahh.. ‘Fitting attire’

I get it now.

On another note, I learned today (in the last, formal lecture of my degree) that, gentlemen, alcohol reduces your testosterone, potentially facilitating breast development.

I hope you boys will keep that in mind for your next Beer & Poker night.

Or will that be a Beer & Gynaecomastia night?

Nathan says:

How does one still clothes? do you have to place them very carefully on a flat surface?

Kutz says:

Hi Nath,

Definitely Outkast, not the Black Eyed Peas. Luckily for you. Or maybe not. I’m not sure if I would pay you out more for getting that wrong or for making 2 Black Eyed Peas references.

Kutz says:

Oh yeah, and I agree, you’re now more manly than you were previous to changing a tyre.

Nathan says:

Would it make me seem racially intolerant if I simply point out that Andre 5000 and that guy from the Peas look exactly the same to me…

In the same way that say, Peter Costello and Tony Abbott look the same.

Leah says:

… Because Tony Abbott looks like he could be Peter Costello’s twin brother.

PS. If you were wondering about all the comments today… I’m supposed to be studying… but am procrastinating. You get that.