About 2 hours into a road trip, I got a flat tire. I pulled over on the freeway and Pam googled on the phone, looking for a nearby place to replace the tire.

When we got to the first place, I introduced myself and the mechanic told me his name. Gary took a look and said that he didn’t have a tire that fit.

I asked Gary about how to get to the next place. The spare tire wasn’t able to go more than 50 miles per hour so we couldn’t use the freeway at that speed.

Gary gave us some directions and we were ready to go. I said “Thank you Gary, you’ve helped us a lot.”

As we headed back to the car, Pam elbowed me in the ribs. “His name isn’t Gary. It’s Tim.”

Oh.