Flat Tire

Well, those of you who read my facebook status on Sunday know that I had to buy new brakes for my car. Feeling keenly how tired I am of being ignorant of all things related to cars, I spent the time while I waited for my car walking across the street to Half -Price Books and purchasing a copy of Auto Repair For Dummies. Great book, written by a woman, full of useful information. I definitely recommend it to everyone.

I started to peruse the first chapter, which reviewed things every driver needs to know. How to pop your hood, pump gas, change a tire, etc. Little did I know.....

Tonight on the way home from bible study, I was cruising down George Bush. I heard a motorcycle passing by. I kinda looked in my mirrors and didn't see anything, so I assumed he was in my blind spot. The loud motorcycle engine continued. And then it hit me. 

That isn't a motorcycle.

That's me.

Uh-oh.

I pulled off the highway and managed to get to a little shopping center- well lit for 10:00 at night, and right off the highway. I get out of my car and low and behold- FLAT TIRE!!!!!! 

Grateful for the recent brush up on the finer points of tire changes, I emptied my trunk and got out my jack. I reach in for my spare tire. 

And, of course, it too is flat. 

By this time I realized that my innocent shopping center is actually home to an adult video store, biker bar, and a tattoo parlor. And I'm alone. In the lot. At night. With a flat tire and a flat spare.

Oh, and did I mention my cell phone was dead???

I look up and OH! Here comes a police officer. I'm saved! He can drive me to a nearby gas station! I wave him down, sending up a prayer of thanks.

The cop waved back. And kept driving.

Thank you Carrollton PD. I'm going to go ahead and assume that he was off to catch a rapist or murderer, and that's why he didn't stop to help me.

And so I jacked up my car, took off my tire, put it in my trunk, locked my car, and began walking to a nearby gas station. After the walk past the aforementioned adult video store, biker bar, and tattoo parlor (all the while reciting Psalm 91 over and over to myself) I arrived at 7 Eleven. I went inside, pockets full of $1 bills, dead cell phone, keys, and tire gauge, and hands full of spare tire. After waiting in line behind a man who was accused of stealing a child's bicycle, I got my quarters and walked out to the air machine thingy.

I began filling up my tire, checking the air pressure frequently. The tire said "DO NOT FILL PAST 60 PSI." For some reason I couldn't get the spare filled past 50. And then I realized that my tire gauge doesn't go past 50 psi. I still don't understand how that works. Someone explain that one to me. I managed to break my tire gauge in the process. But I just went ahead and assumed the tire was full. Probably over-full, but not much I could do about it at that point.

So I began my sojourn back to the car, past the tattoo parlor, biker bar, and adult video store, carrying my spare. I thought to myself "At least if I get attacked, I have a weapon with me." Visions of me taking a tire to the face of a would-be attacker danced in my head.

So eventually I got back to my car, finished changing my tire, and began my slow, 30 mph trip down the back roads. All the while I was praying my tire would stay on as I drove home, and saying to myself, "Someday I'll laugh about this, someday I'll laugh about this...."