Flat tire.
Not the start to the day off I had planned. Aired it up, hoping it would hold pressure long enough to get to the bookstore.
Naturally I hit every red light. Those stolen minutes might have made the difference. Who knows? The noises started as I crossed through the intersection on Elm.
Blam.
In the side-mirror I spotted a chunk of black sailing upward, immediately followed by the smell of burning rubber. Blown out sidewall.
On the bright side, there have been plenty of days lately that I would not have wanted to be stretched out prone on an asphalt parking lot, cranking the jack to lift the car. The little donut tire was sitting in the compartment, where it had waited all these years for a chance to play the hero.
I would have felt differently if there had been snow on that lot, or a pouring rain soaking me down as I swapped the flat for the drive-able tire. Or if the spare tire was no good.
All those things I had hoped to get done on my day off will have to wait for another day. In the meantime, I’m getting things worked ahead for tomorrow morning when I’ll have to borrow kitchen prep time to visit the tire man.
Hello, carrots. Hello potatoes.
Let’s get busy.