July 06, 2002 // 8:00 p.m. // Tired. or: Oh, what a night!
See where I'm going with this? For days now, my back right tire has been going flat due to a screw lodged in the tread. I'd pump it up, it'd stay up for as long as I needed, and when I needed to go somewhere, I'd just pump it up again. I did this on the night of the 4th of July, and for more than three hours, it stayed up fine. Last night, I decided to take the car out for the night. In the dark, I pumped up the tire and headed out. For a half hour, I'm fine. Then as I hit 3300 South, I barely hear the distinct sound that could only be a flat tire. No problem, right? Just take it to the Chevron a block away and pump it up at the pump I see from the street. The pump doesn't work. It's free, but it doesn't work. And to make matters worse, my tire is in even worse shape than I thought. What had at one time only been a hole the size of a pin that was surrounded by an indentation was now a full blown tear approximently a few inches long. And there were a few more of these, all just below the tread. Plus, the tire was extremely hot, and the courtesy water did nothing to cool it off. So here I am 35 blocks from home. My dad is asleep, and I'd hate to wake him at 11:45 at night. So what do I do? Yep. You guessed it. I decide to drive it "'till the wheel falls off." Well, not quite. But I did set off on the desolate West Temple with my stereo off and my lopsided tire making it known to me that it was flat. I stopped a few blocks later in front of a tire repair shop. The light was on. The sign said open. I was so lucky. But then again, why would a tire shop be open at nearly midnight? Of course it wasn't, so down the road I headed at 15 miles an hour, stopping every few blocks to look at the tire getting gradually worse. At the 2400 South bridge, I could take no more. I stopped under the bridge and looked at the tire. It was torn. Not just torn, but shreaded. There were actual holes in the tire. Many of them. It looked like someone had taken an ice pick and turned my tire into rubber shreads. It was barely even a tire. You could look in these huge holes and tears and you could see the rim of the tire. So I'm in a foreign neighborhood, it's 12:15 in the morning, and there isn't a phone or gas station in sight. And where was my cell phone you ask? As I left the house, I told myself I wouldn't need it, even as I thought of the impending doom that could follow. So I'm under the bridge. And I begin the walk down the half street/half alley that is 2400 South. I make my way to State Street and find a phone at the car dealership I almost bought a car from. I had to give in. After nine blocks of destroying my tire, there was no way I was going to risk ruining my car by driving it another 26 blocks. Give me some credit, you guys. I knew my sister would answer because she's the only one awake. "Hello?" "Hi." "Hi." "I was driving on State, and my tire went flat, and now it's totally destroyed." (laughing on her part) "I'm at 2400 South and West Temple." "2400 South and West Temple. Do you want me to come get you?" "Yeah." "OK. Bye." (insert inappropriate comment on her part that is so very her.) It had slipped my mind that she was now 16 and able to drive. There was no need to wake anyone up, though I did think of the consequences of what would happen when he saw the destroyed tire. There was a shopping complex (more like a three store mini-mini mall) about 200 feet from my car. So rather than leave it under the bridge, I drove it there to be safer. 15 or so minutes later, she picked me up. Today, we didn't go to the car until 10:45 this morning. I wish I had the digital camera to not only show you his reaction, but the tire as well. To make this long story short, we bought a tire, put it on, and I reluctantly opened my trunk to search for a spare I knew I didn't have. Reluctantly because my trunk is an absolute mess, and I knew he'd give me the "you need to throw this stuff out" reaction. I was ready with the comeback of how messy the Jeep is, but as always, didn't use it. It so isn't fair that parents can say those things, and we get in trouble when we respond back. My tire is fixed. Polo is back. It's a Saturday night. All is well with me. But I'm wondering if it's too late to call Britt and the crew to make plans for a night of shameless bowling. Of course it's not too late. The last two times she's invited me to do something it's gone like this: Wanna go (insert activity here)? Sure. When? "We're leaving now. Meet at my house." So much for making plans in advance, right? Maybe we can continue the whole T.E.N.T. talk we had not long ago. Plus, she desperately wants me to call her. We all win then, don't we? Last time on Apexsensatin : Now on Apex : Apex Archives : Next time on ApexsensatinIf I could offer everyone one bit of advice this afternoon, it'd be this: When your tire is flat and you know it's because of punctures, by all means get the thing fixed!