We have terrible luck with cars. My dad was driving me and my sisters to the airport once. The car happened to be on the spare tire, which blew out. The entire car spun across the freeway, which ruined the other tires, along with the wheels. We got another car shortly after. The brakes went out. Once it finally got fixed, the tire popped, so we had to change it. Luckily, it was at our house, so my dad used his tools that he already had. On friday, my older sister was in a pageant at school. On the way back, we discovered the popped-tire way that somebody had lost some pliers. We were way out in the middle of nowhere. We were all wearing nice clothes, sitting on the side of the road with pliers in the tire. We also happened to have our dog in the car with us, because he has separation anxiety. In addition to the dog, the pliers in the tire, the nice clothes, and the fact that we were on a freaking DIRT ROAD, we had GROCERIES in the car. The ice cream had melted, the milk had gotten warm, I had dishes to wash, and there were wolves in the area. Yet there we were, sitting on a dirt road in our dress clothes trying to change a tire. My dad started changing the tire, but he discovered that the lug wrench that came with the car was the wrong size, so he couldn’t get the tire off the car. He called a towing company. They wouldn’t go that far. My stepmom called a friend, who called a friend, who called a cousin, who came out the help us (finally). The people came out and helped us, and we were finally on our way home again. The tire had popped at 10:07. The people that helped us change the tire got there at 11:01. We finally got home at 12:03. I had to wake up at 8:00 to wash the dishes.
