I drive an old-woman’s SUV. Big enough to be comfortable with the added bonus of drop-down running boards. When we moved to the country, I thought this car was indestructible. Well, it is, all except for the tires.
I must be a magnet for every nail, spike and hole in East Texas, with more than my fair share of flats. I had a doozy of a flat last weekend. I saw the low tire gauge go on as soon as I made the turn on the country road. By the time I got to town, and parked to wait for my friend I was picking up, the tire suddenly fell flatter than a flitter.
My friend hopped out to get to work changing the tire. Big cars have big spare tires, but my tire iron wasn’t fitting. Just then a couple drove up and asked if they could help … and they had a tire iron that did fit -- what a relief! Within no time at all these two guys had the flat changed and we were on our way. I tried to compensate them for their time, but they wouldn’t hear of it.
