I was traveling merrily along, singing to the radio, happy to be in Central zone, mentally unpacking, when WHAM! The tire went flat just 10 miles or so east of Ft. Stockton.
Because they are run-flat tires, I was able to drive back to Ft. Stockton on them and do all the phone calls.
That's the good part.
The bad part of run-flat tires is that nobody stocks them but Mini dealers.
My warranty requires that they tow me to the NEAREST Mini dealer--which happens to be in El Paso, not San Antonio. I'm going to call Mini America at 8:00 in the morning and see if I can whine loudly enough to convince them that I need to go home, not El Paso. If I succeed, I'll be riding with a tow truck driver 300 miles. If I don't succeed, I'll be towed to El Paso and start back from there driving home, hopefully by noon.
I'm now in a Day's Inn in Ft. Stockton, where--if you've ever been here you know--there is nothing pretty to look at, no matter how I spin it. It's a drab little town with a bunch of motels and I just ate the worst meal of the trip at K-Bobs.
When my children were little, we used to look forward to dinner in an east Texas K-Bob. Either they have changed drastically or I have: it is not a place I will like on Facebook, or anywhere else for that matter. But the airy rolls were pretty tasty.
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