So there we were, barreling down Route 1 in a zippy little sports car when we heard a loud “blam!”. Before I even realized what was happening I was down shifting and slamming on the brakes with such speed and proficiency I surprised myself. As we pull off to the side of the road a gigantic plume of white smoke comes billowing out of the passenger’s side front wheel well. Yup, we got a flat and the tire is just shredded rubber, nothing left. It was just getting dark and we were 20 miles north of Santa Cruz heading back to the city after a day of fun. She looks at me with those big beautiful eyes and I sensed a little bit of fear. We were 60 miles from home, the year was 1992 (no cell phone), and the sun had just set.
“Don’t worry “, I said “I’ll get the spare and we’ll be back on the road in no time”. I open the trunk and realize the spare didn’t have any air pressure. Crap! Okay, the spare was an actual sized tire (this was an older model Alpha), so the only choice was to take it and hitch hike back the 20 miles to the nearest gas station in Santa Cruz to and get it fixed. She’s getting a little upset, but I tell her not to worry, it’ll be okay and to just trust me on this. I said laughingly, “Just think, we’ll look back at this someday and laugh about the whole thing. “ She just looks at me doubtfully. “Think of it as an unexpected adventure”, I add somewhat obnoxiously in retrospect. She flashes me a smile.
So we have to make a decision, do we both go or does she stay with the car? Of course I’m not going to leave her alone in the car with night approaching so quickly, though we both know it’ll be harder to get a ride with two people and a tire. We put our thumbs out. Her, me, and a dirty old tire with a flat, and surprisingly before long a car stops to pick us up. It’s another couple about the same age as us, and they are very accommodating. The tire goes into the trunk, and we both climb into the back seat. We all chat as we drive and we thank them profusely for stopping and picking us up. Before you know it we’re being dropped off at the gas station, we thank them again and they are on their way. The Station Attendant quickly finds and pulls the nail and installs a rubber plug. The tire is as good as new (almost), so now it’s a matter of getting back to the car. No problem, we can call a taxi and we do. By this time it is very dark out, but we’re both feeling much better about the situation because it didn’t turn out that bad. As we are winding through the twists and turns in the cab, I realize how lucky we were that the tire blew where there was an actual shoulder to the road. A hundred yards earlier, there would have been no were to pull over. I point this out and thank her and we're both glad for our luck. She laughs and says, “Yeah, someday we’ll both look back at this and laugh right?” We look at each other and chuckle at the thought of this. The cab drops us off, and I somehow get the tire changed in the pitch dark (of course no flashlight), and we’re back in the car. I turn the key and get nothing. The battery was dead. No, just kidding but if you’ve read this lame story this far you obviously have some time so we should meet up and do something fun. I’m much wiser now and always have a cell, flashlight, valid AAA, and of course a functioning spare tire in the car. So trust me, your in good hands.
