Ironically, I ran into a feller dressed as a girl yesterday at the Wawa.
I went in for a French Vanilla Cappuccino and decided I'd check the air in my tires while I was there.
From a distance I saw a woman, an ugly woman btw, putting air in her tires.
Long black ratty hair, paisly shorts, pink top, girl sandals, muppet eyebrows, you get the idea.
Anyway, long story short, I noticed she was taking forever and I pretty much finished off my cappuccino waiting.
So I got out and asked how much air she was putting in there, because you know how the tires tell you the max pressure? Shouldnlt go by that. Really, you should read the sticker on the door jamb of the vehicle.
So HE responds very deeply, saying well the tire says 50 lbs. And it's not even letting me pump it that high anyway.
I just kind of paused for a few seconds, re-evaluating the situation.
So I kind of shook my head confusingly and said, no, you have to go by the manufacturer's pressure on the door jamb, you're gonna ruin your tires over inflating them. Or worse, lose control of your vehicle into a turn or something. Maybe even a blowout.
He's like, okay, well I'm almost done.
So I was like, I'm not really in a hurry, I was just checking to see why you were putting so much air in the tires. Plus I saw your reading the tire.
Really polite feller. As sharp as a marble, though.
Then I was alright, man, good luck with it.
But when I said alright, man, good luck with it, I did one of these just kind of instinctively and walked back to my car.