I must have been rockin' some great hair.
That's the only thing I could surmise as I tootled down the interstate, watching a man furiously wave his arms in the car beside me. At first I thought it was a gesture of flattery, but then a quizzical expression spread across my face and I began wondering why he was flailing about so erratically.
Another gentleman was flashing his lights on and off behind me and also crazily gyrating with his hands and such. I decided that it wasn't my flowing, flaxen locks that prompted his emotion, and began wondering whether he was waving in angst and disappointment (I was simultaneously chatting on the phone and shifting gears, and the multi-tasking had hindered my ability to speed).
I began thinking perhaps something was up.
I got off the phone and turned down the radio and tried to determine the cause of all the chaos from my friends on the road.
I didn't hear anything.
I didn't see anything.
I didn't feel anything.
Regardless, I decided to drive a bit more slowly and cautiously, making my way safely to the office.
I got out of the car and circled to the other side and saw a completely deflated tire. It turns out I had driven on my rim the whole way from Oakley to the downtown area. Bummer.
My question is this: is it a bum tire, or did some crazed Louisville fan decide to deflate it after seeing my UK car flag, which proudly waved all holiday weekend long after Sunday's routing in Papa John's Stadium?
Sucks to be a Cardinal, doesn't it?