I was extremely lucky this blowout happened at the end of a 56-mile mountain highway roadtrip, while turning around in a cul de sac. The front tire, bearing the weight of the turn, simply popped like a balloon. Changing the tire at 4:00 am was made easier with the help of my friend’s brother (thanks Brad), who happened to have a proper jack in their garage. With only 10 PSI in the spare tire, I crept down the hill to a closed gas station, which luckily had an automated air and water station. Unfortunately, it wanted two quarters, so I had to limp over to 7-11 first. Ah, the galmorous life in the music business.
Then I had the fun of driving 56 miles back home, wondering if any of my other aging tires were about to come undone. Luckily not, I made it home, and then to Big O the following Monday. New shoes!
Did you know tire stores are closed on Sunday? I didn’t. Why is that?