Another Flat

Another Flat

Another flat tire. John couldn’t understand this. The truck that went out to the hinterlands delivering goods to all the little restaurants and shops had another flat tire. Every few days it seemed it needed a new tire, or repairs on existing tires.

He called a meeting of the drivers on that route. Phil, Edgar and Ralph sat before him.

“Who is responsible for this? Another flat tire on your delivery truck today? We can’t keep absorbing the cost of tires on your truck. Is there someone at one of your stops slitting tires? Poking them with a screwdriver? Taking aim with a gun? What’s going on?”

The three drivers had blank looks on their faces. All they did was drive the route, day after day. Endless miles on back roads. They saw suicidal deer, stupid squirrels, giant porcupines, little bitty ground squirrels, huge eagles, stinky skunks, even colorful pheasants, all dead in the road.

After a few moments, “No idea, boss. I just know we see lots of dead animals. Run over plenty every day. County doesn’t even make the effort to clean ‘em up any more.” Ralph was the first to speak up.

“Never saw anyone messin’ with our trucks. Most everyone is considerate. They ‘preciate us comin’ all the way to fill up their shelves,” said Edgar.

Phil sat and just nodded his head.

“Well, we gotta figure this out. It’s getting to be too expensive.” Just then John got a call from the garage. It was Ned, the mechanic.

“You’ll never believe it. We just found out the cause of the latest tire flat.”

“Nail? Slit?”

“Nope. Some kind of bone. Probably from some kind of road kill.”

W/C 282