Tires

These guys were driving entirely too fast.
Three cars passed Rock's Impala on I-30, headed north, approaching downtown Little Rock at ninety miles an hour. Two hundred yards in front of Rock, as they drove side-by-side in the three lanes, the car to the left veered into the middle car, and in a chain reaction the three vehicles smashed into one another and began to careen across the highway. They rolled and flipped in an explosive shatter of metal. Rock veered to the left shoulder, hoping to avoid the melee. He did, but his front tires were ripped from their wheels as they rolled through the debris.
Rock walked across the I-30 Arkansas River bridge and down the first ramp to Broadway in North Little Rock, where he turned right, or east, and walked another block to a tire store he was familiar with. He and a friendly, graying overweight woman clerk Rock had known for years joked as she sold him two new tires for a total of about $45.