In the past six months I’ve had four flat tires—the most recent one just last night. I’m closing in on 65 years on this planet, and I’ve been driving since my 16th birthday. Up until this year I’d had a total of one flat tire. One.
Being the excellent amateur detective I am, I looked at the whole flat tire situation analytically. What location or locations do I frequent where one might end up with a nail in one’s tire? The logical conclusion is my favorite lunch spot. Damn. I’m there almost every day. And their parking lot isn’t great.
I guess I could park in the meat market’s lot next door to the vegan cafe I love. No irony there, right? I’m just tired of spending time at the tire repair shop.