Fifteen bags of topsoil, 9 cubic feet, each just fit into Monte Carlo’s trunk. They filled the trunk and I had to make sure they were stacked just so to get the trunk to close completely. I was on my last trip. I had done the math earlier in the week and deduced I needed 75 bags of topsoil.

One trip at a time. I went to the Lowe’s with an empty trunk, went to Lawn & Garden, stood in line, bought 15 bags, went back to my car, drove to the loading zone, and watched two, weary guys load my trunk. I didn’t tip them. In retrospect, I probably should have.
I would then drive home, back the car up to the garden fence, and unload the 15 bags, my bag aching more with each bag. Each bag weighs 40 lbs.
I was on my last trip. I stopped at Sonic to celebrate with an ice cream sundae. I used most of the little bit of cash I had to tip the waitress on roller skates.
I pulled out onto Route 60 which instantly narrowed to two lanes as it approached my town of Ona. There was nothing on the sides of the road but forest and ravines. No place to pull over.
I heard and felt the familiar flop flop flop of a tire gone flat.
I groaned. And nearly cried.
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