Early Morning Adventures on the Freeway

On the way to work this morning, Stacy and I noticed a rhythmic pulse coming from one of the tires. By the time we made it north of Manassas, we were getting into the groove, so we stopped to dance. No, wait, that's not right. I mean, we were getting a little worried, so we pulled into a gas station to check it out. I thought I heard it coming from the front passenger-side tire, but couldn't find any cause. I hopped back in and started to pull back into traffic when Stacy pinpointed the sound coming from an Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator one of the kids was playing with in the back seat. I kid! It was coming from the rear passenger-side tire. She got out and found the culprit, a nice big bolt stuck right in the tire.

No problem, right? The bolt was keeping in the air. We had a slow leak, but it should hold long enough to get me to work and Stacy to the garage. You already know where this is going, but I'm going to drive you there anyway, so buckle up and pipe down.

Once we hit 60 mph on route 28 just before the route 50 exit, we hear a loud noise come from the rear of the van. I could have sworn that I took the Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator away from the kids! But it wasn't the Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator that made the noise, it was the bolt explosively ejecting itself from the tire and the tire subsequently losing all pressure.

I pulled over and turned on the hazards and got out to survey the damage. The tire was completely flat, a chill wind was blowing, and I wore shorts today. After dealing with the bizarre way of retrieving the spare tire, which involved a winch bar, a winch, and a hook underneath the front of the van, I prepared to jack up the car. Then I noticed that I had no tire iron.

WTH? How could the manufacturer leave out the tire iron? I looked everywhere, under the van, in the jack storage compartment, in our crate of car gear, it was nowhere to be found. The car comes with a collapsible doohicky for operating a winch, but no tire iron?

By this time, Stacy had reached Jamie, whose kids she watches, and she was on the way to us. As I sat in the front seat toying with the jack, Stacy found the tire iron. It was in my hands. The handle for the jack doubled as the tire iron. Sheepish? Me? Nah, why do you ask?

Of course, finding the tire iron is only a small part of changing the tire. The lovely people that rotated the tires last were kind enough to tighten them down to 250 pounds of torque. Luckily, I've been working out (my eating arm) so I had enough weight to loosen them. After I finished jumping up and down on the tire iron to release the flat, I popped on the spare. Jamie had arrived by then, so we ferried the kids to the van and sent Stacy on her way.

I guess the mechanic was right, we would have to get new tires before our next inspection.