I thought today would be different. Leaving work in the sunshine of an earlier-than-rush-hour part of the afternoon, I figured that heading home would be a breeze.

I was sorely mistaken.

Yes, it was clear and sunny. Yet, we still crawled south on the interstate, for no apparent reason. And then, we crawled west, never moving at more than 30 mph.

When I finally reached what I thought would be the end of my journey, an hour had passed.

I was sitting at the traffic light, my condo complex within my sight. All I had to do was turn left, then right, pull up to a pump, fill the tank and go home.

It was supposed to be easy.

Of course, things are never as easy as they should be.

I turned left at the light, then right. Before I could pull up to a pump, I had to navigate around a large truck, which put me at an awkward angle. I had to maneouver back to the left to line up the way I usually did.

Only this time, I was a little too close to the pump. I heard the scraping and I knew it couldn't be good.

I opened the door, got out of the car and surveyed the damage. The concrete slab the gas pump sat upon had scraped against my left front tire, leaving a two-incha gash and a flat tire.

Almost immediately, a Good Samaritan came over to help replace the damaged tire with the temporary one. Unfortunately, after getting four of the screws out (with difficulty) the fifth wouldn't budge. He apologized, asked if I had AAA and suggested I call them. I thanked him and dialed AAA.

A half-hour later, relief arrived. Within minutes, the old tire was off and the temporary one was on. I was so thrilled that I nearly drove away without filling up with gas.

By that time, it was pitch black. Still no rain, though.

But when I finally made it home, I realized that today's commute had taken nearly three hours.

Tomorrow when I leave for work, I'm bringing an overnight bag. Maybe it'll be better not to be a commuter anymore.