To: Miss Procras. From: Ellie the Echo

Evidently, my car thought I was on the naughty list this year. I've kinda put her through the ringer in the two years I've owned her. Scraping her side against a pole in a parking garage , losing a hubcap by running up onto a curb, leaving her parked in D.C. to get keyed by some hoodlums....you get the idea. Ellie the Echo is not happy with me.

But, Karma's a bitch. And Ellie decided to turn the tables on me last night.

I was at Pentagon City mall for a haircut and some last-minute shopping. I returned to my car and began driving away, when I heard the tell-tale thumping sound of a flat tire. I pulled back into a parking spot and went to assess the damage.

My front passenger side tire was ridiculously flat. I'm talking, rim-touching-the-pavement flat. After talking to The Hoff, I decided to drive to the nearest gas station.

Now, if you're from the D.C. area, you know that the Pentagon City mall area is basically all shops and apartments. NO gas stations. Why they don't have any fuel near where thousands of people shop and reside is beyond me.

I was sobbing, and praying, and cursing Ellie for being a piece of shit. She couldn't care less, and continued to thump and shake more violently with each block I drove.

After two miles, I finally caught glimpse of a gas station. The blue, red and white illuminated Exxon sign never looked so good. Before I was able to pull into the station, a Hispanic gentleman pointed at my tire.

No shit, Sherlock. I feel like I'm caught in a size-6-on the Richter scale earthquake, but I thought that was normal for a car. Thanks for the heads up.

I frantically pulled up to the air machine, grabbed my wallet and exited my car. When I reached the tire this is what I saw.

Yeah, I don't think putting air into that would help.

So, I went back to the driver's side door to retrieve my phone. Door was locked. I ran around to the passenger side. Also locked. Checked my coat pockets for my keys. Only found lint and an old movie ticket stub. Glanced at the ignition and saw keys still there, swaying gleefully from side to side. (I swear they were taunting me.)

I'm sure Ellie was on cloud nine by this point.

The gas station attendant was nice enough to let me use her phone to call The Hoff and USAA's roadside assistance.

The Hoff, knight in shining armor that he is, arrived in 15 minutes and kept me from getting frostbite. Within 45 minutes, the roadside assistance crew arrived, unlocked my car and replaced the shredded heap of rubber with my spare tire.

Not only do I drive a clown car, but now I'm driving with a donut. My commute on 66 and 495 was quite interesting, since I can't drive faster than 45 mph. I felt sorry for the poor souls behind me.

Moral of the story: don't ever drive on a flat. And maybe I really need to consider moving where a car isn't a necessity.