I swear to GOD it’s easier to get into a PhD program than it is to replace a !#$%^*& busted tire.
One flat in the middle of nowhere, one tow truck, one spare, one sloooooow drive into town, one freakout at a car dealership, one MIA technician/botched invoice at a Canadian Tire and waaaaaaay too many hours later – I’m quite sure I would do anything (yes, dammit, I said “anything”) in exchange for the name of a competent mechanic.
Rant rant rant rant rant rant rant.
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