I have four enemies in this world. They are my car’s four tires. It all started about two years ago…

I was driving north from Laguna Beach, CA to a hotel in Fullerton I was staying in while I completed training for a new job. It was night, about 10:30pm, and I was coasting up the 5 freeway at about 75 mph. Then my car started shaking.

At first I thought maybe I had just hit a bumpy patch of road, but when the shaking worsened, I knew I was in trouble. I slowed down and put on my flashers. Cars passed me. I started veering uncontrollably to the right. I couldn’t make it to the shoulder of the road, as another lane was merging with the freeway. Instead, I pulled into the triangular wedge between the merging lanes and stopped. No sooner had I turned off the car than I see something roll away from my car and continue down the side of the road. It was my tire, still a perfect circle, but no longer attached to my wheel. Yikes.

With cars passing me on both sides, I anxiously called AAA. I spoke to a woman and told her what happened.

“Yeah, I’m on the 5 near Fullerton, and my tire just came off,” I said.
“Your tire came off!?,” the woman said incredulously.
“Yep,” I said.

After confirming that I had a spare in the trunk, she sent a tow truck my way and said it would be there shortly. At this point, I opened the passenger door and looked at my wheels. The back tire was still there, but the front tire was completely shredded off, my bare rim sitting on the freeway.

I called my friend in Laguna Beach and told him what happened.

“Where’s the tire now?” he asked.
“I don’t know, dude,” I said, “it rolled down the freeway, I guess.”

Then, suddenly, one of the merging cars hit my errant tire, which was in fact on the side of the freeway. The tire, almost magically it seemed, up righted itself and rolled across four or five lanes of traffic before spinning and falling down in the middle of the left lane.

Fortunately, this is were the excitement ended. AAA came, put on my spare, and sent me on my way, albeit at 50 mph so the doughnut spare didn’t fall off, too. Unfortunately, my tire woes did not end on this night…

Hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving and ate turkey without glass in it. Now, on with the woe…

This happened about a week ago. If you are an animal lover, I warn you. This is not a happy story.

It was Friday afternoon, and I had just got off work. I was in my car, driving south and obeying the speed limit (35 mph). I called my friend–via a hands-free cellular device–as I was to meet up with her later. I got her voice mail and began to leave my message:

Hey, it’s Mike. I just got off of work, and I’m in my car, heading home. It’s about 5:07pm. I’m hatless, repeat hatless. Anyway, just wanted to know if you…

Then it happened. A small, short-haired dog ran in front of my car. I hit the brakes. I even swerved a little. But it was too late. I heard a thump before I could stop my car.

I looked in the rear view mirror. The street behind me was empty. No cars and, more importantly, no dog. And I was still leaving my message:

Whoah! Oh, my God. I can’t believe it. Son-of-a-bitch. I just ran over a small animal. I just hit a dog. Oh, man. I can’t believe it. This, this is ridiculous. Unbelievable. I…I can’t. Oh, man…just…just call me back.

Or something like that. Eventually, while I was on the freeway, my friend called back. I confirmed what had just happened. I felt terrible. She asked me if I had stopped, and told her how had I slowed down but didn’t see the dog. She said she hoped the dog wasn’t stuck under my car. I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, God, I thought, as I hung up.

Driving to my destination, I imagined the dog stuck under my front axle, dragging along the road at 70 mph. Finally, when I reached my friends’ apartment, I checked all around the car and underneath it. Nothing. No damage, no blood, no small dog. It was a relief, for sure, but I was still sad nonetheless. I went inside their apartment, hung my head, went to the fridge, and grabbed a beer.

I work as a library page in a library. Now that the personal information is out of the way, on with the story…

I was working in the kids’ nonfiction section with the other pages and one of the librarians. We were shifting books. My supervisor was in the back room with the library manager, getting ready for the Thanksgiving fun (everyone brought food; the manager brought turkey). Suddenly, I heard glass shatter in the back room, and everyone’s attention was perked. But I didn’t go to look at the accident. I kept on shifting books. Later, however, on my way to the employee bathroom, I saw my supervisor and the manager sweeping up broken glass. In among the glass sat pieces of turkey.

Some time later, when the food was all out and ready to go, I grabbed a plate, got some foodstuffs, including some of the turkey (which was now in some kind of steamer along with the stuffing), and sat down. I began to eat my food when all of a sudden I crunched down on something hard. I reached into my mouth and realized that whatever it was was now stuck in the side of my tongue. I spat the chewed food into a napkin; it was red with blood. I went to the bathroom and nervously pulled a chunk of glass out of my tongue. Yes, a chunk of glass. About the diameter of a nickel or larger. Later, when I showed the shard to my fellow employees, their mouths hung open in shock.

So, still in the bathroom, I examined my tongue: there was a small cut on the side of it, and it was bleeding moderately. Still tasting blood in my mouth, I exited the bathroom. I sat down in my chair then said aloud to anyone listening, “I wouldn’t eat the turkey. I think there’s glass in it.” In response to their surprised reactions, I told them what happened.

I’m still unsure how the glass ended up in the turkey, but I have a guess or two. Someone, in my opinion, made a serious error in judgment.

I must confess, I never thought I would start a blog. I don’t normally read blogs, though maybe I will in the future. At any rate, I decided to start this blog for many reasons. First and foremost, strange things seem to happen to me. This is not only my personal opinion, but the opinion of my friends as well. Secondly, I like telling stories. I think I’m good at it, and people seem to enjoy it when I tell them my latest “tale of woe.” Over the years, many people have told me I should write a book about these tales or at least write them down for posterity. I have finally, so it seems, taken their advice. So, without further ado, please enjoy some of Mike’s Tales of Woe (and other strange stories).