story and photos by pablo deferrari

Ah, fucking hell!

My wife pulled up to our drive with a flat tire, and the outer lip of the rim resembled the edges of a lettuce wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last. Standing there, beer in hand, I took a good long pull, got down on my knees, and examined the carnage. It was always in the back, and always on the passenger side. What makes matters worse is that by the time she realized she had a puncture, which is very difficult to tell, it was already too late.