Most days we go about our business not worrying about our cars, or the tires they ride on. So it’s a real surprise when you come out of work at the end of the day and find, as you are backing out, that you have a flat tire. I mean the damage-your-rim-if-you-drive-more-then-the-10-feet-to-get-back-into-your-parking-place kind flat tire.
My tire was fine that morning when I parked the car. I know this because I could tell as soon as I moved the car that afternoon there was a problem. So I had to have picked up that nail close to work. The tire had all day to deflate. That tire had less then 6000 miles on it, it was practically new. The nail didn’t even have the courtesy to stay in the tire, though the mechanic knew right where to patch the tire when he had it.
At least it was only one nail, unlike the last time.
Several years ago, Edward and I were headed out to run some errands one evening. As we turned a corner onto Seminole Blvd, I found myself watching a car next to me that didn’t seem to be holding his lane. That meant I didn’t see the broken bits of the 5-gallon bucket that was lying in the middle of my lane until it was almost too late. OK, it was too late. I missed the bucket but not the contents of said bucket.
Break hard, swerve, thump… thump, thump, thump… pull over. Get out… hisssssssss from the left rear tire.
Crap. Must have picked up a nail. With that much hiss it wasn’t going very much father. So we got out the jack, and started working on changing the tire. Edward was able to get the tire off and put on the spare. Then we got a look at the problem.
Did I say nail? No, it wasn’t “a" nail… it was 5 nails. All of them within a spot the size of a quarter, literally.
To this day I have no idea how I managed not put put nail in any other tire, especially the one directly in front of the “nailed” tire. All I can figure is that the first tire set the nails upright for the second tire, a cluster of 5 nails at that.
Needless to say, that tire couldn’t be patched. Luckily, it wasn’t new.
To add insult to injury, my spare, which sits on the back gate of the Rav4 hadn’t been touched since it had been put back there several years earlier. It was nearly flat itself. So we had to limp to a gas station that had an air pump, which as luck would have it, was not the first place we stopped.
This time I had AAA on the way within 15 minutes of discovering the flat. That was after I called Edward, “Hi… um, I’m going to be a little late...” While I waited, two wonderful colleagues helped me change the tire before AAA got there. But I already knew my spare was going to be flat, so I made sure they sent a truck with air to fill spare. Lesson learned the first time, right? It wasn’t a wasted trip for the AAA truck expecting to have to change a tire to get there and find it done, especially since another colleague came out while we were working on my car to find her battery dead and in need of a jump. The AAA did that for her after getting my spare up to pressure. She didn’t have to wait for another service call and that was a good thing.
We stuck flat tire on the back of the Rav and I dove it to my mechanic, a Shell station that’s on the way home. I knew their staff had gone home for the day and that only the pump attendants would be there. So I dropped off the tire for them to repair in the morning and headed home. They called me the next day to say it was fixed. It took them 5 minutes to put it back on and put the spare back in its place.
Done. Simple. Painless. Relatively speaking, and $26 later.
Over the next few days I heard of two other people who had flats and were repairing tires. Seemed there was a rash of them. I’m sure there were more than I heard about that week. Someone, somewhere, must have dropped a load of nails in street. I and the others were picking them up, so to speak. So for those of you who didn’t get a nail your tire, you can thank us for cleaning up the streets, for taking one for the team.
You’re welcome. Glad to be of service.
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