Despite the swampy weather and the continuing pandemic, I’m feeling more stimulated than languid. Go figure. My mind is racing in a million different directions while my soul case (that’s how I’m referring to my physical body right now) softens into the consistency of a toasted marshmallow in the humid July air. Summer, 2020 is certainly not what I expected it to be.
There have been some surprises and, as is norm for me, they haven’t necessarily been good ones. For instance, that enormous pothole on Route 90 just east of the merge from 87 S. When I hit it the other afternoon, I was afraid I broke a tooth. Yes, the effect of my tire and that extreme example of lack of both maintenance and warning, was really that dramatic. I actually pulled to the side of the highway, which is basically asking to die, to look at my tire and wheel fully expecting the tire would be flat.
Which it wasn’t, but there was a fair sized bubble on the tire and I knew that wasn’t good. I got off the highway and slowly limped home on local roads. I called my mechanic and asked them to order me a couple of tires and made arrangements to bring the car in when the tires had been delivered. Great.
To make an even longer story short, I drove my car out to Schenectady yesterday for my new tires, and an oil change while I was at it. I took the slow way, on my No Flat* tires, driving on Washington Avenue near SUNY (I was the car actually abiding by the 30 mph speed limit). As I sat at a red light parallel to 90, aka the scene of the crime, I saw a tow truck pulled over on the shoulder remarkably close to the spot where I trashed my tire. I mean, where the road trashed my tire. There was a woman standing outside of a pulled over car nearby. She didn’t look very happy.
I drove that very same stretch of Route 90 home, with my new tires which I probably would have needed soon even without the highway crater. My car felt solid and I was so appreciative that the unexpected expense didn’t rock my world too hard. There was a time in my life when dropping $600 would have really strained my summer budget. I hadn’t gotten hurt, my teeth were, fortunately, intact and I was in a position to absorb the unanticipated cost. I hope the woman standing on the shoulder was in a similar level of comfort – and that the damn pothole is repaired before more drivers find themselves in that same position.
*Do you know about these No Flat tires? By the time I drove the car again, approximately 48 hours after the incident, the bubble had evolved into a literal 8” slit in the tire, but the tire still allowed me to drive approximately 16 miles. Pretty amazing technology.