The Queen: Honey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I have a flat tire.
Me: Where are you? [location received...close by fortunately] Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes.
...frickin'...grumble, grumble...tire sized chunk of asphalt...$$*I&%$#$@!!...missing from the side of the road....grumble, grumble...and The Queen manages to hit it...[snort, spit]...at 50 miles per hour...D'oh....
Great. Just what we needed. I would have felt better about a nail or something like that because I keep a plug kit in the car.
Fortunately, The Queen was safe and close to home so that I could assist quickly. The bonus, see there is a silver lining, is that she was able to pull over in a very wide median cross over which gave me a safe place to work.