I am woman. Hear me call AAA on my cell phone.
Yesterday I had a flat tire two hours from home. Fortunately, I have AAA, so instead of changing the tire myself as I was taught to do in driver's ed. in high school, I let the professional handle it. Or, at least I let him handle it enough to get me back home.
This morning I visited the neighborhood tire man who had sold me new tires two weeks ago. I figured he at least owed me an apology for not making sure the spare wasn't flat (it was), and at most he'd give me a refund on a tire which couldn't handle getting run up on a curb. Well, I did get an apology for the flat spare. No refund was offered as he seemed to be under the impression that it was my fault for hitting the curb. I've hit curbs a lot harder than that with no damage – gee whiz!
Needless to say I had to buy a new tire, but the tire guy did put air in the spare. He also taught me how to retrieve the spare with use of this metal wrench which loosens a nut in the floor attached to a descending wire on the bottom of the car. I was so intrigued I got down on my hands and knees to get a good view unknowingly exposing my skivvies to the tire guy. I cannot fathom why I needed to know how to get the spare unless I let AAA lapse or work it in a book somehow. I did notice there is room to put something inside the middle of the spare where it is stored - like a gun or a similarly sized murder weapon.
Except I don't write suspense! Still, I can't quit thinking about what a darn good hiding place that is. I might just have to work out a plot for it.