Deflated (part 1)

That's not a word I especially liked earlier this evening.


This evening I met up with my friend, Michael, who has recently returned from a 6-month deployment to Afghanistan.  My car is AWOL (okay, it's only MY leave it forgot to take), so I drove the rental we have in place of Arun.  We went to Mom's favorite ice cream and gelato place in the Springs - Glacier - and after good conversation, one bowl of delicious gelato, and another bowl of not-so-delectable gelato, we went our separate ways.


This is where it gets interesting....


Because I could see the interstate was backed up, I opted for the back road route.  Unfortunately, I rarely travel that road, and missed a turn, so I did a quick U-turn.  And hit the curb.  Hard.  And I knew (and felt) immediately that the front right tire was flatter than a baking soda-free pancake.

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Note to self:  Quick U-turns work in vehicles I'm used to driving, like my CRV.  Slow U-turns are advisable when driving rental cars that are longer than they seem.

Too bad I don't have my own TARDIS so I could go back in time and hand myself that note.  Of course, I couldn't do that anyway, since I'd be crossing my own time stream and even if I got the note to some one else (10 or 11, please!), I suppose I wouldn't have the note right now because it's the direct result of that mistake.  SORRY.  Too much "Doctor Who" lately.  Maybe.  Which reminds me... I don't want to miss tomorrow's new episode!  I keep forgetting to watch on Saturday nights or to record them....

Anyway!  Back to the story.  Sorry.                                
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Thankfully I was able to pull in to a space that was off the road and out of the way.  I know perfectly well how to change a flat tire (at least, I watched Dad and another friend change a tire, and I think I paid pretty god attention).  But I was so startled by the whole thing and angry at myself for not knowing better, I called Dad in tears, who said he'd be right on his way if I needed him to make the almost half-hour drive.  I love my dad.  :)  Of course, I figured I could at least try it on my own and call him back.

After I'd calmed down and pulled the donut, jack, and ratchet from the trunk, and discovered that I'm not strong enough to get most of the lug nuts off, I ended up calling Michael.  (Thank You, Lord, for the invention of cell phones!)  Despite the fact that he was already a little late meeting someone for dinner, Michael turned around and came to help me.  He got everything in order, and again, we were back on our ways.


And that's the story of why I don't like the word "deflated" today.