I am sore. Muscles ache that I didn’t know I had.

Yesterday afternoon I swapped the wheels from the old Beetle to the new. The old Beetle had new tires, the new Beetle had old. And, let’s be frank — on a purely aesthetic level, I liked the rims on the old Beetle far more than the rims on the new.

I got out the jacks, blocked the tires, and went to work.

In true Uncle Scrooge fashion, I worked smart, not hard. Position the jack just behind the front wheel and it will get both wheels on that side off the ground. But I could never remember which direction loosened the lugnuts.

All told, it took an hour fifteen. I had eight tires to move around. (I didn’t bother getting the lugnuts super-tight on the old Beetle; it’s not driving anywhere.) I rotated the tires as they went onto the new Beetle; this seemed wise.

But, damn, I ache. If I shamble at the office, coworkers, I have not been assaulted by a zombie. Instead I wrestled poodles… I mean Beetles… and won!

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