I drove north on 111, doing the eighteen-mile return trip to the Slabs. Offhand, I couldn't recall the name of the road I was looking for so I kept my speed down and spent a lot of time peering off to my right. I passed a grove of date palms on my left. Beyond, in the far distance, I could see the vivid green of fields under cultivation. Somehow the countryside looked different, but it wasn't until I spotted the sign reading salton sea recreation area that I realized how far I'd overshot the mark. The road to the Slabs had to be ten miles back. I spotted a gravel side road ahead on the left and

I figured it was as good a place as any to make the turnaround. An old high-sided truck was approaching, kicking up a trail of dust in spite of the tact it was only moving ten miles an hour.

I slowed for the turn, checking my rearview mirror. A red pickup truck was barreling down on me, but the driver must have noted my change in speed. He veered right, cutting around me as I gunned the engine, scooting out of his path. I heard the faint pop of a rock being crushed under my wheel, but it wasn't until I'd done the U-turn and was back on 111, that I felt the sudden roughness in the ride. The flap-flap-flapping sound warned me that one of my back tires was flat.

"Oh great," I said. Clearly, I'd run over something more treacherous than a rock. I pulled over to the side of the road and got out. I circled my car. The rim of my right rear wheel was resting on the pavement, the tire forming a flabby rubber puddle underneath. It must have been five or six years since I'd changed a tire, but the principles probably hadn't changed. Take the jack out of the trunk, crank the sucker till the weight is lifted off the wheel, remove the hubcap, struggle with the lug nuts, pull the bad wheel off and set it aside while you heft the good one into place. Then replace all the lug nuts and tighten them before you jack the car down again.

I opened my trunk and checked my spare, which was looking a bit soggy in itself. I wrestled it out and bounced it on the pavement. Not wonderful, but I decided it would get me as far as the nearest service station, which I remembered seeing a few miles down the road. This is why I jog and bust my hump lifting weights, so I can cope with life's little inconveniences. At least I wasn't wearing heels and panty hose and I didn't have glossy fingernails to wreck in the process.