On the way home each night I travel for about 12 mines up a busy, 5-lane street with a speed limit of around 40 MPH (more or less, depending on the section of road). Last night, about 3 miles into the trip, I pulled up to a stop light and noticed that the right front tire of the car beside me in the left lane was flat as a pancake. And I mean flat — not low, or going down, but flat.
The driver answered, “Yes, we’re going there right now!” And the passenger quickly rolled up his window.
“OK.” I thought. The reaction was a little strange. I’m really not at all scary. But, maybe several other people have mentioned it to them already.
On the remaining 8 or nine miles of road that I usually travel, there are numerous service stations and tire places. The car with the flat stopped at none of them. It continued blithely on in the left lane. I swear the rim had to be on the pavement and I don’t know why the tire wasn’t in shreds. I watched in fascination all the way down the road, at speeds of up to 45 MPH. When I finally turned off toward home, the car with the flat was still going, and heading out into country where there isn’t a service station for miles. I really wondered where they were going “right now,” and I was tempted to follow them. But home beckoned.
I really wish #1 Son had been in the car so I could have taken the opportunity to discuss what to do when you have a flat tire and explain that my preferred reaction was to pull over as soon as it was safe and put the spare on. Or, drive very slowly to the nearest service station, if that wasn’t too far. Or, call AAA (yes, I’m still a member).
#1 Son, if you are reading this, please, please, please don’t ever drive at 45 MPH for 10 miles on a flat tire. Please.