Murphy's White Shirt

Ffffft ffffft ffffft... that was a weird sound. Why is that guy honking at me and pointing at the rear of my vehicle? Uh oh... that vibration is not good... something doesn't feel right. Must use side mirror to look down at tire... yep, flat. Smell of burning rubber... must pull over. Woah, that baby's trashed.

I blame myself. My wardrobe choices, to be specific. Any time you feel like dressing up and wear a nice, white dress shirt you're asking for trouble. Tempting fate. You might as well perform a mathematical proof of Murphy's Law. Usually, it's just painting my shirt with sauce from my lunch, but fate figured I was due for a little mortal peril this morning.

This isn't the first time I've written about a flat tire. I had a slow-leak flat a few days ago. Conducting a quick straw poll of my co-workers, all seem to report increased flattage in recent years. Is it more construction junk on the roads? cheaper tires? Who knows. All I know was that changing it was a big deal on the side of the freeway with my son in the car.

And after such a pleasant bike ride to work yesterday, too. Ever since I put tire liners in my bike tires, I've never had a flat bike tire. Steel-belted radials... harrumph!