This morning I hopped in the car, as I was dangerously low on caffeinated beverages, and I've been putting in the OT at work lately, so my eyes were having a hard time staying open of their own volition. I get about 50 feet out of the driveway, when I realize that the car is pulling to the right, hard. I hop out and look... oh joy! my tire is flat! Run the car back into the driveway, and start sorting out my wrench/jack/spare situation. I'm just cracking the bolts when the pool guy shows up with one of those cigarette lighter compressors. Slap some air into the tire, and I'm off to the local tire shop to have them patch what should have been just a "minor screw hole":http://flickr.com/photos/feralboy/33187965/. Drop the car off, ride back on the fixie (whoops, forgot my shoes, so I did it in sandals, which was suprisingly un-sucky). Call comes about an hour and a half later, heat-ring something something, riding around while flat something something, and it can't be patched. Deep sigh.

"Ok, I guess you'll have to replace it then." "See, that's the thing of it. When you have all-wheel drive they all have to have roughly the same amount of wear, otherwise one tire spins more and you mess up your transmission and void the warranty." "Oh. Well, _that's_ fucked up."

So now I am the owner of 4 brand-new tires instead of 3 tires with 18,000 miles and one patched one. Difference of about $350, as near as I can tell. I wish I would have known; I could have done autocross this weekend on the old tires to really shred them.