Bracka Fracka!

I just got my car back from the shop this morning, all fixed up and running great, and as I was driving home from Baaaaart this afternoon and crossed a metal grate bridge, I heard a funny little noise...

Sonovabitch, when I got home I found a big ol' tack of some kind lodged in my rear passenger tire. Bloody hell. Those tires are just 20 months old and except for this recent trip to Ore-E-gone, that car is hardly driven.

The real age of those tires is closer to six months, if that. My first thought was to pull out the nail/tack/steak knife but I didn't. My next thought was to do what I did last time I had a flat, when all the tires needed replacing, get a can of Fix A Flat, shoot up the lame tire & limp the car down to the tire shop.

Then I talked to my dad who reminded me there's a spare tire in the back deck. Why wouldn't I remember that? I guess it was all the years of keeping the contents of an entire garage in the trunk of my Acura. You couldn't just dive into the trunk and whip out a spare tire. It was easier to shoot a can of toxic goo into the flat tire & keep driving.

Even though I came home with a flat tire, I'm sooo lucky... David got me The Complete Calvin and Hobbes. I can take Book One with me to the tire shop tomorrow to read while they fix my damn tire.