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Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Flat Tire

Not going to lie… for a split moment I couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose.   I’m semi-stranded, away from my leading men on a weeknight.  The low tire pressure lit up on my dash, so like a good responsible driver, I steered to the local gas station to get some air.  Air is free – I mean, I’m breathing right now and not paying for it – but if you want it compressed and a machine to forcibly push it somewhere, it’s no longer free!  I make my way around to the last tire, thinking that this stupid sensor is just way too SENSITIVE for only a few psi’s and find a nail in the almost flat back tire.  Drat!!  For all the computing power I carry in my hand all the time, I mildly panic and call my manly “take care of business” husband to find out what to do.   It seems so ironic given the amount of responsibility I handle at work without batting an eye, but a slowly flattening tire… HELP! Someone must have purposely stuck that nail in there – who’s out to get me?!  What do I do?  Deep breath, put on my big girl panties… I tell Lovey, there’s a tire shop in the next parking lot and head there.  Whew… $35 and a tire plug, crisis averted, I think.   

[I warned you that I was indecisive - and by virtue I'm also random!]

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