It was a cold winter’s day; no snow on the ground, but frigid nonetheless. Conrad warmed his house with a fire, but he was out of wood. He wrapped himself up as warmly as he could, got into his old truck, and set off in search of any twigs that might have fallen near the side of the road. The only trouble – and this perhaps explains why he hadn’t recently collected firewood – was that the truck had got a puncture and although he replaced it with the spare tyre, he couldn’t afford to get the punctured tyre fixed. Let’s hope he doesn’t get another puncture!
He drove about ten miles down the road and found bits of fallen branches. Potential warmth!
How often anyway does one get a puncture?