Yup, the photo pretty much says it all. At 5:10 this morning, I was stopped on the shoulder somewhere on I-95 between my house and the airport shuttle parking, on the phone with a nice lady at AAA and explaining to her that no, I haven’t left my car but yes, I’m quite certain that I blew a tire and I’m also 90% certain that it was the rear tire on the driver’s side.
(“Gosh, that one’s just a little flatter than the rest,” I recall thinking a few weeks ago. “And it’s not the first time, either. I wonder why that’s happening?”)
The car now has two new tires (the passenger-side one was just as old) and I’ve been rebooked on my third flight to San Francisco. I will get there in plennnnnty of time for the Apple event.
I assure you that my elan — unlike my original rear-left tire — is intact and undamaged. This is because the human spirit — unlike the spare that got me back here to my usual garage — is supposed to be able to run for far more than 50 miles at 50 miles per hour.
The only real change is that the focus of my trip seems to be not on Jobs…but on Job.