On my way to work yesterday, about two miles from my exit, the freeway started to feel extremely bumpy. “That’s strange,” I thought. “I don’t remember this much bumping.”
I kept on at full speed, before beginning to sense that the bumpiness might be originating from my car, and not the road. I slowed down, hit my hazards, and the thump-thump became more pronounced.
I blew out a tire once before, on a car much older than this one. It was a front tire and the second it blew, I knew exactly what had happened. I had just driven 2.5 hours south from Rob’s house and had almost reached my exit. That time I pulled over and called Triple-A.
This time, I kept going. I could have pulled over, but the exit seemed so close and the shoulder seemed so exposed. I thump-thumped to a McDonald’s parking lot, and before I even glimpsed the shredded rear tire, a man behind me said, “You got a spare for that?”
“I do,” I said.
And he changed it for me. Just like that. Said he has a daughter who’s about to start driving and he hopes that if she were ever in that situation, someone would help her out. A girl on her own, with all those crazies out there. He mentioned all those crazies a few times too many, but he had his wife with him, which gave him some uncrazy cred.
Seriously, though? It was 10 a.m. on a sunny weekday and I was in a McDonald’s parking lot approximately three blocks from where I used to live. I didn’t exactly fear for my safety.
The folks at Discount Tire said they didn’t know what caused the blow-out, but they sold me a tire and I made it to the office by about 10:45 a.m. Would like all my roadside emergencies to go so smoothly.
The night before, I knocked a water glass over on my bedside table. I do this a lot. I exclaimed, “Sh*t Motherf*cker!” which prompted Rob to call out, “Are you all right?” Because knocking over a glass of water really warrants that kind of expletive.
Twelve hours later, I got a flat tire (all alone, and with all those crazies out there) and was completely unfazed.