Flat-out aggravating

The automotive gods have smitten me once again. I don't know what I did to incur their wrath; I just know that when I turned onto Ferrell Parkway last night on my way home, I started hearing a thumping noise from the right front of the car that rapidly escalated in intensity.

Cursing mightily, I looked for some place to pull off. (Those of you familiar with the area will know that there is nothing "on" Ferrell Parkway -- it just runs between Lynnhaven Parkway and and Indian Lakes Boulevard, where it suddenly becomes Indian River Road.) That place turned out to be on the bridge where Ferrell crosses over Princess Anne, where there's a really wide breakdown lane on the right. So I pulled off and broke down. Or rather, the tire was broken down. Flatter than a pancake. So much for my plan to detour to the library before going home and return a pile of books.

After my initiation into the Rite of Flat Tires last August -- a mere week after joining the AARP motor club! -- I knew the drill. I pulled out my cell phone (fortunately, fully charged) and called the 800 number on the card I always carry in my wallet now. The nice lady took down the information about my location and said someone would be there in "about 55 minutes." (No, I don't know what the nearest mile marker is. No, I don't know if the direction is considered north or west -- it's northwest, dammit! Look, just tell'em to get on Ferrell Parkway at Lynnhaven and drive till they see the silver PT cruiser sitting on the shoulder with the flashers running and the grey-haired lady sitting in it with steam coming out her ears.)

Then I settled down with the novel I was carrying in my tote bag to read at lunchtime, and waited. It was more like 75 minutes than 55, but eventually someone showed up, wrangled the sad excuse for a spare tire out from under the car where Chrysler so conveniently stashes it, and replaced the flat, which had a 2-inch tear in the sidewall. I drove home and headed out back to my shed, where the leftover tire from the August Smiting From the Tire Gods was languishing (I bought two new tires at the time) and heaved it into the back of the car on top of the one with the hole in it.

Of course by then it was too late to go get the tire mounted, so I ended up dropping the car off at the dealer this morning, seeing as how my state inspection was due this month anyway and it was about time for an oil change to boot. I got the front end aligned for good measure, since it has never been done before (and the car's four and a half years old). A shuttle ride to work, a lift back to the shop from a co-worker at the end of the day, and $121 later, my car is now suitably shod once again. If anyone knows what kind of sacrifice I need to make to the Tire Gods to keep on their good side, please clue me in!

On a side note, I found it interesting that I sat there for over an hour beside a busy highway during rush hour, with the flashers on, and did not see one police car the whole time. I guess they were all too busy blocking traffic with two patrol cars to issue a ticket to some hapless offender.