Explore "Diverging Roads" by Rose Wilder Lane on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On a hot July afternoon three years later she drove a dusty car through the traffic on Santa Clara Street in San José, and stopped it at the curb. When she had jumped to the sidewalk she walked around the car and thoughtfully kicked a ragged tire with a stubby boot. The tire had gone flat on the Cupertino road, and it was on her mind that she had put too much air into the patched tube. For two miles she had been expecting to hear the explosion of another blowout, and had been too weary to stop the car and unscrew the air valve.
"Darn thing's rim-cut, anyway," she said under her breath. "I'll have to get a new one. " She dug her notebook and wallet from the mass of dusty literature in the tonneau and walked into the building.