Alternate thread titles:
- Best.Excuse.Ever (for not doing a ride)
- Flat tires - they're not just for bicycles anymore



My plan for today was to ride to the beach. I figured I'd get in a good 60-70 miles with a bit of climbing, as well as beat the heat and get away from the smoke. Maybe meet the housemates in San Gregorio for lunch at the General Store.

Well you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. Actually, what is the end of that quote? (Oh, I reckon I could google it.)

Ahem, anyway, there I was, driving on the good ol' 280 freeway to my starting point at a nice clip (oh maybe 70 mph or so), when my car adopted some mighty peculiar handling dynamics. With the funky handling and the sound emanating from the floorboards, I was pretty sure that I had a flat tire, so I pulled off to the shoulder and put on the hazard signals. Got out of the car, walked up to the hood, and peeked at the passenger front tire.

It was shredded. Not only that, but the smell of burnt rubber was overpowering.

At this point, I should mention that since I had been driving, ahem rather fast, I'd been in the left lane. So, I'd pulled over to the left shoulder of 280. Cars were whizzing by at oh, 70 - 80mph. Not only that, there's 5 or 6 lanes of traffic whizzing by. Basically, I didn't want to change my tire right there or try to get over 5 lanes of traffic so I could exit the freeway with my shredded tire.

What to do? Well, I called my housemates to let them know that I wasn't going to be meeting them in San Gregorio for lunch. They suggested that I call the CHP to help me get out of my predicament. So I did. CHP sent an officer (really nice guy who confirmed that my tire was indeed shredded) and dispatched a AAA truck.

Meanwhile, my housemates passed me on the freeway -- honking and waving. Then they passed me in the other direction. I think they got a kick out of seeing me stopped on the freeway with a CHP car behind me. Oh, and during all this, my brother called and by coincidence was driving in the area. "Well, if you see someone stopped in the center divide of 280 with a CHP behind them, that'd be me!" He offered to come and help, but really, at that point there was nothing he could do.

The AAA guy came, surveyed the situation, and decided to tow my car to the nearest offramp. He certainly didn't want to change the tire with the traffic whizzing by his ear. He hooked me up (by the way, it's possible to tow your car with a bicycle rack attached to a hitch.) Then he had the unenviable job of merging over 5 lanes of fast-moving, uncooperative traffic. Fortunately, our friend the CHP officer was still there, and after it became very evident that people weren't going to yield out of the goodness of their hearts, the CHP officer turned his lights on. Funny, it was like the Red Sea had parted.

We got off the freeway and found a nice spot for him to change the tire. I was hoping we'd find a spot with shade for his sake, but he wasn't that picky. In a jiffy, the space saver spare was on my car, and my old tire (minus several chunks of rubber) was in my trunk. The smell of burnt rubber was overpowering.

From there, I took surface streets to my neighborhood tire dealer. Since I have almost 40,000 miles on my car, I figured it was time to treat my car to a new set of shoes. We decided on a nice replacement set, and I went for a nice little 30 mile bike ride while they mounted the new set of tires on my car.