Sorry to interrupt my Philadelphia Story again, but I had to let you all know about my latest tale of woe.

Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?  It has been raining for three days straight here in California at the time this is being written.  Serious rain.  Torrential rain. 

I had the day off.  And I was bored.  Tired of sitting around my apartment and staring at the walls, I decided that the rain wasn’t coming down that hard, and I prepared to venture out into the world.  I got into my car and headed towards the freeway.

Things looked bad, however.  Roads were partially flooded, and everyone was driving slowly or like an idiot.  But I pressed forward.

I got on the freeway and was moving along pretty well; but the rain was coming down in sheets over my windshield, and I had to pay extra close attention to the road ahead of me.  Then I asked myself: What the heck am I doing?  I shouldn’t be driving in this weather.  Nuts to this!

So, I got off the freeway, turned around, and got back on the freeway to head home.  But when I was about to merge—my lane was ending—I saw an ominous object on the road.  It was a fist-sized chuck of black asphalt.  I managed to drive around this mass, but as I did so, I saw up in the distance a pile of fist-sized asphalt chunks.  I didn’t know what to do.  I looked to the lane on my left—there was a car there.  I couldn’t get over.  Behind me some jerk in a pickup on my ass.  I couldn’t brake, either.  So, I forged ahead, toward the pile of debris.

Bam!  My front right tire went in and out of a giant pot hole.  I thought, I sure hope my tire is okay.

Oh, but faithful readers, you know all too well about my many tire troubles!

I didn’t take me long to realize I had a flat.  I pulled over immediately.  I climbed out of my car via the passenger-side door and saw that, yes, my front right tire was flat.  The rain washed over me.  I made quick work to change the tire, but with the rain, the mud and gravel, and the traffic rushing by, it took me about fifteen minutes to put on the spare.

I climbed back in the car, soaked and exhausted, and drove home, where I promptly threw off my wet clothes, hopped in a hot shower, and then, later, drank hot chocolate.  All the while, I was shaking my head in disbelief that yet again I had another tire tale of woe.

If you aren’t already aware of my ongoing battle with my car’s tires, then read the following previous posts: My Troubles with Tires (Part I) and My Trouble with Tires (Part II).

So, after replacing literally every one of my car’s four tires, the cruel hand of fate decided to play yet another tire joke on yours truly…

It was a Friday afternoon.  I had worked all day, and was looking forward to going home.  My coworkers and I left the building at 5pm.  But then, as I approached my car, I noticed the driver’s-side rear tire looked a little low.  At first, I thought it was a trick of some kind, a mirage, a product of my imaginative faculties.  Surely, the air in the tire was just a little low!  Certainly I didn’t have yet another flat tire!

But, my friends, the tire was flat.  There was no way I could drive on it.  I shook my head, incredulous.  I turned around and walked toward my coworker D___.  Guess what? I said, and I told her I had a flat.  She, being privy to this blog and my other tire woes, was in disbelief.  Then my boss L___ approached.  I told her, yes, I have another flat tire.  And L___ being privy to this blog and my other tire woes…laughed.

Normally, I am a man of good humor, but at this moment in time, I found it hard to laugh along with L___.  Some time later, after I removed the flat, I noticed that I had not one but two nails jammed in the tread.  Some guys have all the luck.

But wait! I said to myself later when I went to the tire shop.  Surely, those two nail holes could be plugged!  Certainly I wouldn’t have to buy yet another new tire!  But, alas, the one nail hole was too close to the edge of the tread, and yet another new tire (number five?) was bought.

Woe is me.

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.

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…