So last night I discovered I had a flat tire. Huh, that's unfortunate. I'll deal with it in the morning.
This morning I moved all the crap out of my trunk (and there is a lot of crap, for reasons that are irrelevant to my story) and pull out my spare.
While I'm jacking up my car, a former AAA employee walks by with his dog. He gives me a hand, and he tells me that he was going to sleep in today but his neighbor fell while smoking crack last night and died. So the ambulances and police woke him up early this morning. Awkward silence.
Turns out my spare is flat. So I inch along the back roads until I get to the gas station near my house. A helpful biker pulls up next to the passenger side window and motions frantically down towards my tire. Since I really don't feel like leaning across and rolling down the passenger side window, I yell "I know, my spare is flat.. I know" until he either hears me or gives up.
When I get to the gas station, the air pump is out of order. Of course. So I get back on the road and inch my way to the next closest gas station. Where the air pump only accepts quarters and all I have is nickles and dimes. Thank you, gas station attendant man who changed my nickles and dimes into quarters.
Back on the road with a no longer flat spare, I finally make it to a Pep Boys where I sit in the waiting room that smells like tires for two and a half hours. My tire is now good as new.