The mystery of tire and wheel sizes
Remember how, back in grade school, you’d get to have a new friend? Except, since we’re all born with a limited number of “friend spots”, you’d have to let an old one go? No parallel with FB, where some people accumulate new friends the way my sock drawer draws pennies, but I digress. Turns out that the mayor of our city works exactly the same way. The wood kids didn’t have a chance, when the steel kids came into the neighbourhood.
I’m still trying to get my head around the process of buying rims to go with our (next) set of winter tires. I’m favouring steel (no wooden rims for this lad). The sizing guide on a popular box store site doesn’t even list our car. Too new, or something. Shouldn’t there be some kind of equivalency guide? Like the ones for universities, or transistors. I’m not going to get out in the driveway with a protractor and a ruler…
If current tendencies continue, I’m adding “responsible for support” on yet another software package at work. This time around, I’ll get to explore the fascinating world of school bus routing. Frankly, at this point I no longer care. Just one more reason for my telephone to wake me from those spot naps I so relish. The real question is: Who gets to train my (eventual) replacement? When I’m finally ready to give up my front door thingie (it’s not a key), the time for patiently sitting with “the new kid on the block”, to provide training, will have passed.
