Worst day EVER

Mistakes

This is perhaps not so much embarrassing as funny as hell.

One day, mid-afternoon, I was late making a payment to the storage unit which housed my extra things. I was in a rush, and not paying attention as much attention to the road as I should. All of a sudden- Ker-THUNK! I'd ran something *big* over and it killed my left rear tire. I safely pulled over to the side of the road and got out to check the tire. Yep, sure enough, a major flat. I went to the trunk and took out the necessary tools to fix it, since I am not a helpless female (really, I'm not!). The jack was *really* old, so I couldn't get it to work properly. Thankfully a man in a pickup stopped and got his jack out and fixed my tire for me. I thanked him profusely, and proceeded to get in the car to leave.

The car didn't start.

I had *no* idea what was wrong for what seemed an eternity...Then I looked at the dash and realized that I'd left my lights on. *sigh* And, of course, there was no way that I could fix this on my own. So I did what any other not-helpless-I-swear-it female would do. I popped the hood, had the jumper cables on the ground next to me....and stared at the engine helplessly.

Another man came by and gave me a jump start, and i thanked him as well and continued on my way. At 35 mph, with a donut spare on an '85 Jeep Cherokee that had slightly oversized tires. But I wasn't going to let that stop me.

I called my mom from the nearest gas station, 10 min from my first stupidity. Let her know everything was okay, and that I'd be headed her way as soon as I paid my bill.

I arrived at the storage unit place a little before closing, and went to my unit to drop off a couple of things, and then went into the office to pay. When I went back out to the car, I noticed that I'd locked my keys inside of it.

Back to the office to call my dad, who was already unhappy about the flat tire.

He arrives and everything looks good...until I notice that the donut is now flat. I now have no idea what I'm going to do...so my dad makes me do the only thing we could at the time: drive it the not-quite-10 min home. This in itself wouldn't've been all that bad...except that the path I had to drive on (going no more than 5 mph) led right behind the high school I'd graduated from the year before...RIGHT as school was letting out (so all of my friends who were still in school saw me!).

And that's not all...

We arrive home, and Dad tells me to take the tire to the nearby tire store, to see if there is *any* way it can be fixed. Well...I went to get my wallet...and realized I must've locked it into the storage unit!

So back with my dad I go...embarrassed most thoroughly, to retrieve my wallet.

They couldn't fix the tire (of course!) and on my way home I kept an eye out for the culprit that killed my tire. And I found it. The object in question was a large tire iron (pry bar, whatever you call them). I still have it somewhere to this day, though the only decent part about that entire day is being able to tell others about it, and only get mildly embarrassed. :)