Zen and the Art of Fixing a Flat Tire

On Thursdays, Tuffy P goes up to Richmond Hill and visits with her dad. Normally, she's home just before midnight. Last night, I get a call at 11:30. "I have a flat...what should I do?" I ran that through my well trained husband simultaneous translator, and heard, "Please come up here and help me right away", so I said, "I'm on my way". Tuffy drives a Volkswagon Passat. Somewhere along the way, the tools to change a flat disappeared, but I didn't know about that. I tore the car apart, and no tools. No problem. I dug out the tools from my old Subaru. Well, there was a problem. My tire iron didn't fit. Ok, no problem, Tuffy's dad drives a Volkswagon too, we'll use his tools. We dig that out. That's when we dicover the anti-tire-theft device. Volkswagon doesn't just use tire nuts like everyone else. No Way. They replace one wih a special nut that requires you to put in a special little item that fits magically in place in order to use the iron and and take the nut off. The one in Tuffy's dad's kit didn't fit her car. This was turning into an international conspiracy to stop me from getting any sleep last night. So, we use a little compressor that plugs into the lighter of her car, and fill the tire way full of air. The next plan was to drop it at her dealer to get the tire fixed (and order new tools). I would then drive Tuffy home from the dealer. OK. The on-ramp to the highway was closed for construction. We did finally make it, and today she has her car back. The tool kit is on order. I need an extra-long sleep tonight.