I blame Chris Tonn for a minor annoyance that befell me the other day. Maybe it was his fault, maybe it was fate. Maybe I jinxed myself.
For reasons immediately lost to the ether, the two of us found ourselves embroiled in a discussion on spare tires. Unlucky when it comes to flats, Chris bemoaned his puncture-filled past as I gloated that, despite years of driving in remote locales, my last flat tire was probably a half-decade ago. Someone or something was listening. Sure enough, just two days later, a rusty nail sliced through my front passenger-side Continental.
He won’t pick up the tab, the jerk. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here. Read More >















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