We had an adventure on the six hour drive home after Christmas. Some huge metal thing flew off a truck and landed in front of us on the highway. We couldn't avoid it, so we ran over it, and it punched a big hole in our tire. We pulled over on to the shoulder of the highway and contemplated how we were going to get the spare tire out of the trunk. We sat there in the car, Jett babbling away in the back, picturing all of our stuff sitting on the side of the road. We would have had to unload the entire trunk to get to the spare tire - and our trunk was packed with suitcases, boots, a sit-n-spin, a huge rubber ball, and you know - everything you travel with when you travel with a toddler.
Thankfully we looked up out of our stupor and realized that we were sitting 1/4 mile from three tire stores, our car's car dealership, and a shopping center. So we fired up the engine and limped along to the closest tire store. Jett loves tires, so he thought the entire fiasco was just for him, we got three new tires in one hour and I was the only one who whined about it. Not bad.
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