Hitting Potholes

The title of this post is not a metaphor. It could be, but it is not.

Coming back from a customer visit Thursday I hit a pot hole.  A big one.  I hit it hard. My wheel cover flew by my driver's side window in a slow-motion scene almost reminiscent of the Wicked Witch flying by Dorothy Gale's bedroom window. I saw it roll across the highway in my mirror as I braked to a stop on the side of the road.

I pulled on my jacket to protect me from the Illinois wind and chill and trudged 50 yards up the highway to find my wheel cover.  It was rested broken and cracked in the gravel and mud beside the road. With a sigh I threw it in the trunk.I don't know why, it is unusable. I guess that despite my reputation as an inveterate hater of the environment, I don't like to leave my trash beside the highway,

 I bent to examine the wheel. The tire seemed fine; no flat.  That is good, the tire is less than a month old. The edge of the rim was bent, but not enough to lose the seal on the tire. I drove slowing down the highway a few miles and stopped to check the air pressure again.  It was a steady 30 psi.

I will head out today to see what a new wheel cover and rim are going to cost. I will try find a used rim somewhere, This is not how I planned on spending my Friday.