I am...Tireblow!

It's one of those age-old hypotheticals: If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

I don't even need to think about this one. No question. My superpower would be the ability to blow tires with my mind. I would be Tireblow, Defender of the Road, bane of bad drivers everywhere.

Picture this: You're on the highway. Traffic is heavy, and maybe the weather is bad. Here comes some jerk driving a sporty little number worth more than your yearly salary, but he seems to think it's worth five bucks for all the care he's taking to keep it out of harm's way. Not happy with the speed of his fellow fast lane drivers, who are already doing fifteen over the limit, he tears across two lanes of traffic without signaling. He passes right in front of you, so close that your windshield cracks from the force of his sub-woofer and your wiper blades are sucked off by his slipstream. He then leaves Back to the Future-style flaming tire marks in the slow lane while you belatedly brake and swerve like a spaz and almost cause a wreck yourself.

Just like in any good superhero story, the police can't help you. Not because they're dealing with forces beyond their ken but because there simply isn't a cop for miles around. They're never around when a maniac driver makes Darwin roll over in his grave; they're resting up so they can perch on the median some day when you're in a big hurry and pull out immediately after you pass, making you freak out and second-guess your speed like the protagonist of a bad Edgar Allan Poe story.

So what do you do? Honk your horn? The jerk will never hear it because he's moving faster than the speed of sound. Not that he'd care anyway. No, there is no hope for revenge or even a statement of your displeasure that will stick. All you can do is shake your fist and wring out your underwear at the next rest stop.

But you're in luck, because I'm in the car in front of you. Sorry about the blinker; I'm rocking out to Skillet and can't hear the click. But I do see the jerk who violated your car's personal space. I concentrate my mental energies on the magical tire pendant I wear around my neck. Or something. Still working on the backstory part; maybe I got bitten by the radial-active Michelin man. But I activate my power and suddenly Mr. Fastester and Furiousester's right rear tire explodes. Moments later you see a plume of mud in the ditch and hear the garbled sound of one final bass note. Your adversary's day is officially ruined.

Another job well done by Tireblow, Defender of the Road! No need to thank me. Just glad I could help.

Imagine the possibilities. I know I tingle at them. Next time someone tries to merge into the side of my car, BLAM! Next time some idiot randomly lurches into the intersection at a four way stop, BLAM! Next time someone cuts me off, BLAM!

And lane merges. Ohh man. You know how every time you lose a lane because of construction or an accident there are always a couple of jerks that pull up as far as they can in the soon-to-be-defunct lane and chicken their way in at the last second? BLAM! And then there are those mega-jerks who try to bypass heavy traffic by driving on the shoulder. They get the four-tire treatment. Are you one of those people? Well, hope you've got full coverage, because you're going to have a damned hard time proving I was at fault.

It's too bad I can't have this power retroactively, because I've seen plenty of chances to use it come and go already. For instance, once I was at the Greene, which is an outdoor mall near where I live. It's part of a recent Ohio trend of outdoor malls modeled after shopping districts in big cities without that whole tedious "being in a big city" thing. If you throw a rock from a rooftop at the Greene you'll probably break the window of a suburban home; if you've got a halfway decent arm you'll hit a cow.

Anyway, I was walking down the sidewalk at the Greene, when a motorcyclist beside me in the street decided it was time to peel out, making a noise like a dentist drill creating feedback over the sound system at a heavy metal concert. He took off like a rocket, leaving about a hundred pedestrians half deaf and setting off three car alarms and at least one pacemaker. He then...stopped at a stop sign about twenty feet away.

Not if I were Tireblow he wouldn't have stopped. No sir. BLAM! BLAM! and he would have slid through that intersection on his stomach in a shower of rubber.

Oh, sure, my power won't only be good for drivers who are mostly annoying and occasionally commit minor traffic violations. I can stop real criminals too by laming their getaway vehicles. I'm sure I'll still be something of an antihero in the eyes of many law enforcers, what with the prankish nature of my power. Insurance companies probably won't be too fond of me either; on the other hand, tire shops and tow companies will love me. Then there's the eyebrows that the name "Tireblow" will raise and the confusion that will be caused by my leotard with "TB" stenciled on the front of it. Some may misinterpret it and think I ought to be quarantined. Still, I'll definitely be a hero to the public, don't you agree?

You don't?

BLAM!