My Tire Be Poppin

Oh, the best laid plans... On Monday night, I mapped out my schedule for a productive Tuesday. I had it figured out down to the minute, all starting at 8:00 a.m. But, the pothole on 322 in Downingtown had other plans. I was driving to the train station, like I have been doing every morning since I moved home one month ago. And I was in a little bit of a rush, like I have been every morning since I was born. Anyway, I was at a red light waiting to turn right. The turn should be a wide one, as there is quite a lot of space between the white line boundary and the grass - also, there is a pretty big pothole on the edge of the road. But, my anxiousness got the best of me, and I thought in my head, "Fuck the pothole - I'm in a rush."

Cut to me on the side of the road waiting for my dad to come help me. Sidenote: Great thing about the suburbs is all the people nice enough to stop during morning rush hour to offer help. Anyway, my dad had quite a difficult time loosening the spare from its metal fastener in my trunk. Turns out some stray beer caps had fallen through the cracks and rusted the tire and whatever holds it down. Icing on the cake was that my spare was also pretty flat, but I didn't really have any other options.

I got to work late and didn't get as much done as I had hoped. But, my mom was my shining star and got my tire fixed before I got home. What will I do without her (in five days!!!)?