Flat and Ripped (with no exercise)

I was on my way to my best friends house to help him load some motorcycles for Bike Week and I kept hearing a noise from the back of the car. It kinda sounded like I’d run over a cardboard box. Then I thought maybe it was the muffler dragging. I pulled over and was surprised to see I had a flat tire. I have a 12 volt pump, so I put some air in the tire and went on the last few blocks to my friends house. I used his real jack and took off the flat and put on the ridiculously tiny, training wheel sized dumb dumb spare. I can hardly believe that little tire is safe. But my good fortune doesn’t end there. Not only do I get to buy a tire (the flat had a leak in the side wall), but sometime, in the last few hours, I ripped my pants wide open. So I’m out a pair of jeans too.

I shouldn’t complain. Things could always be worse. At least it wasn’t raining, and I was wearing underwear.


  1. and you didn’t get poisoned from the meat wagon… botulism in the fake honey… “killer” service at the fondue pot – i mean really, you are so blessed!

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