Lugs. Stupid fucking lugs.

Safety first: if your car's wheels have those little locking bolts on them, go take them off and throw them away. They're a big pain in the ass.

I went out earlier and discovered that somehow, I'd cut the sidewall on the left-front tire on the Volkswagen. Pulled out my portable inflator (I always carry one) and pumped it back up enough to get to Mr. Tire, where we discovered that the wheels are held on with one special lug that requires a splined adapter key to remove. We -- me and the guys at the tire place -- tore the car apart and could not find it. I assumed that the previous owners had lost it or something, so I called the dealer. After much time and many back-and-forths, we finally discovered the crucial key, tucked away in the toolkit in what otherwise would be a truly great hiding place. Once the tire was replaced, I went back to the dealer, got four "normal" wheel lugs, had Mr. Tire take the "locking" lugs off and replace them with the normal ones you can remove with any lug wrench.

And yeah, it's a threat to safety... if you pop a tire on the highway and you're standing around dicking with finding and using this magic special lug adapter, and you get killed, you'll wish you'd taken those damn things off.

Nobody wants your wheels anyway.

Margaret is no longer hissing at me, though she's taken up residence on the towels in the bottom of the bathroom closet and looks like she's in prison or something. Never mind her ass is on nice, warm towels and she has her own food, endless water, and her own catbox. She seems to be calming down, though, so hopefully before I go to New York on Saturday, she'll be being friendly again. She is a pork.

I had a long IM session with a woman in (of all places) Canton, Ohio. After New Year's, I'm going out to see her. She's got the adventure gene, and we're both curious about each other. And, of course, she has cats. More on this later.