Cost of Deflation

The following piece was written for a competition run by a PR agency to be given a new set of tyres in 1999 which, needless to say, I didn’t win! Entries had to be of 250 words or less and related to tyres. Although the story has never been published anywhere before, it is absolutely true and I thought my inspired choice of title would be certain to clinch the prize…

The Cost of Deflation

My destination was Croydon in Surrey, barely an hour away. The purpose of this brief excursion was to meet potential new clients and, as they had approached me, I was very excited at the prospect.

The route involved joining the M.25 at junction 16, driving anti-clockwise to junction 7, then heading north. Our appointment had been arranged at a sensible 11.30am and, dressed to impress, I left home early. Successfully negotiating the motorway racetrack unscathed, I made the turn-off onto the A.23 with time to spare.

Shortly afterwards, while entangled in an unfamiliar one-way system, I noticed the car seemed to be pulling to the nearside. Double yellow lines and busy traffic forced me to drive on for almost a mile before I could find a side road in which to stop and investigate. Yes, it was a puncture.

Changing the wheel didn’t really take that long (unless compared to a Formula One pit crew, that is), but now I was behind schedule and my hands were filthy. Then, when I finally found the office, there was nowhere to park and the nearest meter turned out to be streets away. Panic mounting, I ran back.

Somewhat dishevelled and rather distraught, I got to the meeting twenty minutes late. Needless to say, my presentation was pathetic, and I came away feeling as deflated as the tyre in the boot.

It turned out to be quite a costly day – I didn’t get the job and I had to buy a new tyre!

Tony Beadle Copyright © September 1999