Some
days don’t just go sideways—they veer into a ditch, set up camp,
and start roasting marshmallows.
It started like the
perfect morning. Sunlight pouring through the windows. Birds doing
their little Disney chorus thing. I actually thought to myself,
“Well,
isn’t this lovely? Today’s going to be a good day.”
Cue the record
scratch.
I stepped outside
and there it was—a tire that had clearly given up on life somewhere
around 3 a.m. Not a slow leak. Not a subtle sag. This thing was
flatter than roadkill on I-93. Aggressively horizontal. A crime scene
in rubber.
It
sat there like an air mattress the morning after camping—wrinkled,
useless, and impossible to revive. No warning, no farewell hiss, not
even a dramatic pop
for flair. Just slumped over like, “I’ve been holding your sorry
self together for too many years, lady, and I’m DONE. Figure it
out.”
So, instead of my
tidy little to-do list and that smug, get-stuff-done satisfaction, I
got a pop quiz in “tire triage.” Which, for the record, involves
kneeling in gravel while the wind tries to sandblast your face,
balancing a jack that sounds like it’s been crying for help since
1998, and muttering words you wouldn’t say in front of your
grandmother.
I haven’t crouched
that long since I was elbow-deep in a goat birthing situation. And
let me tell you—both experiences involve heavy breathing, regret,
and the faint hope that someone will arrive to save you.
The jack was, of
course, hiding. I finally found it buried under the back seat,
keeping company with a fossilized French fry and what I’m 80% sure
was once a map of Ohio. We’ve never been to Ohio, which means
either the car’s been sneaking off without me or I’ve been
storing roadside garbage for sport.
Anyway, I got the
spare on. I survived. The tire. . . not so much.
The soundtrack to my
morning? Picture muffled grumbling, the groan of a rusty jack, and
the faint sound of my will to live rolling down the driveway.
But hey—I
got the tire changed. I still made it through the day. Because
sometimes life goes flat. . . and you fix it with grit, sarcasm, and
just enough air to keep going.