Just a quick tale of semi-woe for today. Actually, this is a good example of the kind of thing that happens to me often.

Flying to Pennsylvania, I first flew out of Burbank and landed in Phoenix. Everything was going as planned. There were no lines in Burbank, I made it through security with no problems, and my flight departed on schedule. In Phoenix, I decided to give my dad a call, who would be picking me up at my final destination in Baltimore.

“How’s the weather there?” he asked.
“Fine. Perfect,” I said. “Everything is on time, and I should be in Baltimore on schedule.”
“That’s good,” my dad said. “So, the only thing that could cause any delays would be a mechanical problem.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“But that never happens,” he said.

I got off the phone. Ten minutes later, an announcement came on over the loudspeaker. My plane, which I was supposed to board in minutes, was delayed. Why? Mechanical problems.

So, like I said, my troubles with tires were only just beginning…

As a result of the first tire incident, I had both my front tires replaced. This held me over for a few months until one bright afternoon, as I was driving to the pharmacy in Burbank, I heard the tell-tale thump thump thump of a flat. I pulled into the pharmacy parking lot and realized one of my back tires was now flat. Fortunately, it was the afternoon and I had plenty of space to operate, so I changed the tire myself. It took me a while to do so, but I would become much speedier at changing tires over the ensuing months.

As a result of the most recent flat, I bought two new back tires. But they didn’t last long. I had them about a year before the first one blew on my way home from Pasadena one night. It was dark and drizzling, and I had to change the tire on the side of the road with virtually no light. I soon bought yet another new tire, this time only a single one.

The next back tire blew a few months later on my way back from San Jose. I was hundreds of miles outside of North Hollywood, so I had to buy a new tire that day, less I drive all the way home on the risky doughnut. I had to wait over an hour for the tire to be replaced.

I thought my tire troubles were over, having literally replaced every tire at least once. Yet one day not too long ago, my boss came up to me at work and broke the news.

“Mike,” she said, “I just got back from lunch, and when I pulled into my parking spot, I noticed that your front tire looks low.”

It was low, sure enough, and had a giant silver nail in it to boot. Of course I assumed the nail hole could be plugged for a nominal sum, but, alas, that was not to be. Turns out the tire was damaged beyond repair, and yet again, I had to buy a new tire for my car.

So it goes.