Today I took my mom on her pilgrimage to Mustafa Shopping Centre, something which she can absolutely not do without everytime she comes to Singapore. Note that this is just the first of several expected visits to this shrine over the next one month.
After a lot of window shopping and some actual shopping, we had a good meal and took a cab back. Half way down the journey, while we were on the expressway, the car seemed to have some difficulty in moving and made all kinda noises. It was also tilting a bit to one side. All the cars passing by had people frantically honking and waving at our car towards the tyre. Our cabbie casually said "Puncture lah!". OK... wouldn't that mean he would stop somewhere since the car is tilting now? But no, he kept on for a few kilometeres while my mom called all possible Gods for help. His concern was more on how not to cause a jam on the expressway which had no space for a car to park. I was with him on that. Many a time I had sworn at the guys who had caused a jam on the expressway and I didn't want to be on the receiving end of it.
Finally he stopped at a petrol bunk. I hopped out to see the tyre and I must say that a chappathi would have looked less flat than it. It looked stretched out and wrinkled like a 100 year old granny who hasn't ever used skincare in her life. Cabbie made a few noises which I interpreted to be disappointment at the tyre's pathetic situation. I also joined him with random exclamations because I was very excited to see such a flat tyre. He then tried filling it with air which readily left the tyre through some unseen hole. "I don't think that would work", I ventured helpfully. "You take another cab lah", he ventured helpfully. OK, fair enough.
So with all our Mustafa bags, my mom and I walked around that petrol bunk looking for another cab, talking very excitedly about our adventure which has already been elevated to a near-to-death-experience status. Am not sure how dangerous a punctured tyre is, but my mom and I had decided that it is a big deal and the dramatic blood that runs in our veins makes us very "happy to be alive".
896 more to go.