As you loyal readers know, I am a Wal-Mart hater. If I wasn't, the indie-rock snobs might take my membership card away. I just cannot stand the place, and so I do not give them my money. Plain and simple. It truly is an evil empire.
Well... Wal-Mart saved my ass. On our drive home from Memphis, where we stuffed our faces for the Thanksgiving holiday, Jermaine (our car) drove over something... possible a dear hoof. OK, I know what you are thinking... Niner killed Bambi. I did not. But there were so many dead furry friends all over the road that it was impossible to not drive over at least a part of one of them. Well Bambi struck back, with a chunk of hoof that went right into Jermaine's rear tire. Wham-O! Jermaine's first flat. My first flat.
There are no such things as service stations any more, they are just gas pumps and mini-marts. What is open on a Sunday morning in the middle of nowhere? Wal-Mart. Salem, IL'sWal-Mart to be specific. Since we had four hours of driving to go before getting back to Chicago we could not drive home on the spare. We had to get the flat patched. Wal-Mart was our only option. How I dreaded going to Wal-Mart. Well, I must say they did a great job, quick job, and it was less than $10. Yep. I even told one of the guys how much I hate Wal-Mart, but there was no other option. He informed me since they came to town most of the auto guys now work there (yes, since Wal-Mart put them out of business).
So for this great service that saved my trip home... I thank you Wal-Mart (in Salem, IL). I promise to not talk shit about you for the remainder of 2007.