For reference, I did not tear the entire tread surface off of the already-flat tire with my teeth in a transport of rage - the whole damn thing separated completely from the tire, just as you see it there, at 80 mph on the interstate. Just to add insult to injury, it turns out that the monkey-ass motherfuckers at the oil change place put one of the lug nuts on cross-threaded when I let them rotate my tires, so I actually had to TWIST A HALF-INCH STEEL STUD APART LIKE AN APPLE STEM with no better tools than the little hollow-frame toy wrench that comes with the little rubber doughnut on the toy wheel in the trunk.
I am glad I am not a scrawny man. Because this was the kind of place where my cell phone had absolutely no coverage - even though I was ON THE INTERSTATE. The kind of place where they feel the need to actually put up a ten foot sign to let you know that Chester, SC is 22 miles thataway - in spite of the fact that Chester, SC is the kind of place that would normally make absolutely zero impact on anyone further than, say, a bowshot away. The kind of place where "a bowshot away" is a very crucial distance, because, well, they'uns in Chester likes to go bow-huntin'.
And of course none of the tire places are open on Sunday, and I already drove 88 miles on a 50-mile toy tire, so instead of delivering 11 computers to a customer tomorrow, I had to make an embarassed call to the customer and request A RIDE to their office and back. Sigh. Oh well, at least the customer in question is cute. (Married, and totally not on the menu, but cute.)