changing a flat something or the other

so, i blew a tire out on the long island expressway yesterday... why does that seem so apropos a metaphor today? first of all, i didn't blow the tire, so to speak, the piece of road debris did, i just happened to be driving and when out from under a semi passing me skips a huge fucking... something. something that looked black and merrily dancing its way in front of me in a scant 1.34 seconds, black and skipping as it bounced from under the semi with wires attached to it and about maybe two feet long, i swerve a bit, but not enough to actually swerve into the longisland drivers passing me @ 65 on either side in a 45 mph construction zone heading west to... the hamptons? well, my life didn't flash before my eyes, but the piece of shit kicked up by the truck did, under my front axle, where a blowout would have been a careening course to danger and death, but under the bus to the inner tire of the rear axle and not the one that could have been simply changed or lifted out of the way and we all feel a whoomp! and the back of the bus hops up in the air a little bit like a horse that's been swatted on the rear end, startled and it doesn't act differently... and then a few miles more, its obvious that we have a flat that takes us to a repair place, limpingly and we delay the huntington and islip trip for two hours and finally crawl back dead dog ass tired at 10pm, after having begun at 6.30am... for the last three days... sheesh, why do i feel that this is apt? is it always darkest before the storm or before the dawn? just miss a little death, destruction and final rest for more of a what? 40, 50 years of weariness, fatigue and getting up early again the next morning to enjoy the struggle all over again? yeah, as my dad liked to say, what does it all mean? who knows? but yes, yes, yes, its all worth it.