Woke up. Ugh.
Grabbed diet coke. Yum.
Got in truck. Drove said truck. Said….hrmmmm, mushy. Stopped truck. Got out.
Flat tire. Not low. FLAT.
Son of a…….
Ok. On a hill. Got out of truck, brought diet coke, sat on deck, sent boss an email–gonna miss the meeting. Then grabbed neighbor lady and we began tire change attempt #1.
Obtained pineapple juice.
Grabbed other neighbor and began tire change attempt #2.
Now to get the friggin' railroad spike out of my tire.