What about chatting about the fact that their biggest asset at the moment is the car and although they can't sell the car they may be able to sell a bit of it, a bit that they have not used and are maybe unlikely to use.
They decide that the spare tyre is completely superfluous to their needs, it's not like they are going rallying. They have a little discussion and realise that none of them have ever been in a car when a tyre has burst and although they have all observed this phenomena they have never actually been on the receiving end of such a misfortune - If you went around worrying about everything you wouldn't get out of bed, or cross a road or go snorkelling, I mean none of them have critical illness cover, none of them have had any of their blood frozen in the case of emergency, none of them have had any of their umbilical chord stem cells stored in liquid nitrogen (they decide that they will let this one go as they do not believe the procedure was available when they were children, Ian also seems to think that the man that brought him up ate the umbilical chord with some mung bean - a tradition that went back at least 4 generations on that side of the family). Ian calculates that it is statistically quite unlikely they will get a puncture. They talk themselves into it.
They sell the spare tyre to a bloke in a garage…..yes you've guessed it they get a puncture as soon as they pull out of the garage. They could then go back to the bloke and plead with him to get the tyre back..the guy isn't interested it's a very nice tyre maybe he could be sitting with in on his lap almost stroking it. Ian notices that this fella has a horse racing magazine lying around, a few scratch card a copy of sporting post and adopts a cunning plan clever Ian!
A bit like muskets at dawn he offer this fella duel/ the 'weapon' will be a card game of his choosing - Ian and the dad who brought him up used to play a lot of card games on their nights in together Ian his pretty confident he could wip his ass at any card game. the guy will only do it if the car itself goes to him if he wins, he is only prepared to give the tyre back and nothing else if he loses.. these are crap odds and they are in a bit of a pickle….
They have a group meeting ..Ian has to take the bet, they can't afford a new tyre
The guy chooses a ridiculously sounding card game 'Wikibamhickibam splat, the winning card'. This is a ridiculously complicated card game first played by the aztecs, apparently the invading spaniards got lost so much cash to them that this is why they got so pissed off and starting killing them. Ian's 'dad' found a set of the rules in a dusty old book shop in Tipton in the West Midlands.
The rules are as follows,
Each player has to put three pieces of double sided sticky tape on his face, one on each cheek and then one on his chin. The cards are thrown on the floor by a neutral player, each player then repeats Wikibamhickibam splat three times, after this they can launch themselves to the floor. The winner is the player that can stick three queens to their face first. It is all about speed and hand eye coordination and having an iron will.
Ian realises that this will require another sacrifice on his part, he will have to shave (there you go Ian!). This makes him waver a bit until Dawn tells him that these days Danny Glover is always clean shaven.
The games commences, the pocket watch chimes down like in a spaghetti western movie the two men are sweating and eyeing each other up. Dawn throws the cards on the floor really hard. They say Wikibamhickibam splat three times each, the garage guys is down on his knees scrabbling about on the floor like a man possessed. You hear Ian's voice in the background 'looking for something chief', Ian is reclining on a chair just testing out a pipe a bit like Lee Van Cleef might have done. He has three off the four queen's stuck to his face. He has the fourth and spare queen in his hand, just to rub salt into the wound he flicks it down to the guy on the floor who is now sweating in his string vest on the floor….he is now the shell of his former self.
They get the tyre back, Ian tries to strike a match on his chin to light his pipe and seal the victory however he has shaved so well it is as smooth as a baby's bum.