Even before I started my trip, I had noticed a vibration in the front end of my car. The tires looked pretty ragged too. I did what I usually do under these circumstances: I slipped into denial, decided to ignore the situation, and took off down the road.
The vibration worsened considerably during the trip. Still, onward I rolled through the hot deserts of the Southwest.
Trying to pull away from the pumps after filling up at the Needles Shell service station, I was suddenly confronted by a sweaty mechanic animatedly gesticulating at my right front tire. What could possibly be wrong? Well, sure, maybe the tire was falling apart. So what has that to do with me?
Reluctantly, I decided to listen to the mechanic's advice: costly but sound advice. I sprung for four new tires.
And the vibration disappeared.
The next morning, on Las Vegas TV, the lead story was about a fellow who drove off the freeway and rolled his car after a blowout. There but for the grace of God go I!