Flat Out Of Luck

Some days are just like that.

You wake up, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and you think, Today's going to be a great day. Then you step outside and see this sad excuse for a tire looking like it gave up on life somewhere around 3 a.m. It’s not just flat—it’s aggressively horizontal. A crime scene in rubber.

Not a great way to start the day.

There it is—flat as a pancake, but with none of the maple syrup or joy. No warning, no farewell note, not even a dramatic hiss to let me know it was going out with flair. Just slumped over like, “I’ve been holding it together for fifteen years and I’m DONE. Deal with it, lady.”

So instead of doing what I planned—which involved a to-do list and the smug satisfaction of being productive—I got a surprise crash course in "tire triage" while kneeling in gravel and questioning every life choice that led to this moment. I haven’t crouched that long since I was wrangling a goat in labor.

I eventually found the jack, somewhere under the back seat next to a petrified French fry and what I think was once a map of Ohio. (Why? I don’t know. We’ve never even been to Ohio.)

Anyway, I survived. The tire did not.

So if you’re wondering what the soundtrack to my morning was—it was the sound of muttered cursing, a creaking jack, and the distant echo of my will to live rolling down the driveway.

But you know what? 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.  

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