Matt flips tires from sun up to sun down.

Then I beheld the torture of Matt, as he wrestled with a huge tire using both hands and feet. Girding his loins, and thrusting with all his might, he pushed the heavy tire around an empty lot, himself tiring in the effort, his parsh retreating into his arsch. But every time, as he was about to send it toppling over, the giant object landed on its sidewall, not on its treads. A cruel curse. Matt, the pitiful pusher, continued in his futile task, setting again towards the punishing tire. So once more he had to wrestle with the mammoth rubber, while the sweat poured from his limbs and the dust rose high above his head, sun up to sun down, for all eternity (Homer, Odyssey, Book XI: 593)