Tired of nails

I found another nail in my tire today. Really.

And I pulled it out with my bare hands. Really.

Since Hurricane Katrina smacked us around like a Mafia goon collecting on a bad debt, there's lots of debris on New Orleans' streets. I blogged about this last month, when I found a nail in my deflated tire.

At the time, I blamed that nail on the roofers who had been working in the neighborhood where I now live. There's not much hurricane debris laying around the sliver by the river anymore, but there's still some construction trash here and there.

However, I know where this nail came from. I am sure that it came from the neighborhood where I used to live, Vista Park. My old neighborhood, where my muddy, mold-covered house silently waits for its final fate.

The streets there are still covered in dirt carried by floodwaters. There is still a lot of flood-damaged furniture, wall board, fixtures and other belongings discarded on the curbs.

I knew when I was driving down my street yesterday that I was putting my tires in peril. I thought, "I'm going to end up with another nail in my tires driving around here." Really.

Today I noticed the small nail hanging out of the treads of my left rear tire. It wasn't embedded very far, or at least it seemed to be mostly exposed and bent to one side. I thought about it for less than 10 seconds before I decided.

"I'm going to pull it out."

I gripped it carefully with my bare fingers and began to twist and pull. I'd like to say it came loose with a satisfying "pop" like a champagne cork. But it made no sound. Especially important in this case, there was not even the slightest "hiss."

I held the reviled nail for a few moments, admiring my strength, imagining if Superman or Hulk could have done it any better. And then I properly disposed of the evil nail in a nearby trash can.

And that was the most interesting thing that happened to me today. Really.